Needs (or Sebastian Monroe's thoughts on Darwinism)
by SciFiDVM
Summary: Because ever since the Tower, whenever the smoke clears, the dust settles, or the person holding the weapon on her drops dead to the ground in front of her, he is the one left standing there. Charloe. Set starting after 2x09. PWP.
1. Natural Selection

**Title:** Needs (or "Sebastian Monroe's thoughts on Darwinism")  
**Fandom**: Revolution  
**Rating**: M (E)  
**Spoilers**: Through 2x09 (Everybody Says I Love You)  
**Pairings**: Charlie Matheson / Sebastian Monroe (Charloe)  
**Disclaimer**: This is purely for entertainment and I make no money from this. Revolution and all the characters are the property of other people. I'm just borrowing them.  
**Summary**: Because ever since the Tower, whenever the smoke clears, the dust settles, or the person holding the weapon on her drops dead to the ground in front of her, he is the one left standing there.  
**A/N:** Cross-post from AO3 (for the few Charloe fans on Earth that haven't read this yet over there). I held off on posting this one here because of the rating. The first chapter was my first ever attempt at PWP. Apparently I have some kind of knack for it, because this thing just about blew up AO3, and I had to continue it. This is basically my fanfic magnum opus at this point, so I figured if there is a fic to get me kicked off this site for violating the ratings rules, this might as well be it. Enjoy the smut.

**Needs - Natural Selection**

Charlie was well aware that she wasn't like other girls her age any more. Her fantasies didn't involve some prince saving her from all this. Her fantasies were… darker. Especially now. She'd grown accustomed to being a soldier, to the fighting. Depending on the opponent, whether or not she came out on top, and how primal the attack, the fighting itself could even be a turn on. Being rescued? Not so much. It was embarrassing. It meant she failed. Rescues were for damsels, and she's no damsel. She's a Matheson.

Though someone apparently needed to explain that fact to her hormone addled body. Her underwear was sticking uncomfortably to the curls and the sensitive skin below as they dragged an unconscious Miles away from the schoolhouse and back toward Willoughby. The copious amount of increasingly viscous material coating her nether region was an irritating reminder of the extent of her earlier unbidden arousal. Why did he have to come back and save her? Why did he always have to be the one to save her?"

The good news was that there didn't seem to be a Patriot left alive in the entire town. They figured it wouldn't stay that way long, but they needed to get Miles help and regroup. They arrived at the Porter homestead just in time to find the patriarch making a break for it with a bundle of his belongings. When all the Patriots holding him captive had burst into flames, he'd decided it was his chance to make a break for it. Seeing the state of his daughter's extended family at his doorstep, he gladly agreed to stay and treat Miles.

So everyone was downstairs, helping, hovering, making it just a little too claustrophobic. Charlie, with Gene's assurances that Miles should be ok with IV fluids and antibiotics, had finally retreated to her upstairs bedroom to ease the congestion in the makeshift ICU. The smell of burnt flesh still permeated her clothing and she began stripping it off to change into something not coated in human ash. She poured some water from a pitcher on the nightstand onto a washcloth and attempted to wipe the remains from her body before redressing. She pulled on a new bra and tank top before addressing her lower extremities. After all the ash and grime were gone, she ran the washcloth between her legs. The delicate tissues were still unnecessarily tender. Too much arousal without the satisfaction of release. With the next pass of the washcloth she applied a little more pressure. A soft moan formed in the back of her throat and died on her lips. Familiar memories, the ones brought out in the quiet moments when she was alone, began to surface in her mind

She shook the thoughts from her head and put the washcloth on the nightstand. She shouldn't be doing this. Miles was downstairs, possibly dying. Yeah, she wasn't not an idiot. This wouldn't be the first time that "the grown-ups" had lied to her. She pulled on a clean pair of cotton underwear and grabbed a pair of jeans from the closet. She let the anger at her dysfunctional family clear her mind. She'd seen the way her mother reacted to Miles's imperilment. There was more to it than they'd ever felt the need to tell her. She sat on the bed and began to pull the jeans on. They had no problem lying to her. None of them did. Except… him. She paused before pulling the jeans up over her hips.

Those special memories began playing through her mind again, her post-blackout equivalent of one of those dirty magazines Danny had found somewhere and hidden under his bed when he was fourteen. What the hell. There was nothing better to do.

She laid back on the bed, her legs still dangling off the edge, and closed her eyes.

_She's back in the Tower, pinned under metal shelving with some nameless guard pointing one of those horrible bullet-less guns at her. She's sure he's about to kill her when she hears the whine and blast of a coil gun. The man in front of her nearly disintegrates into a cloud of billowing smoke and a mist of fine blood particles. _

Charlie let her hand skim down her body and into her panties. Her fingers traced along wet puffy tissue in anticipation of what she knew came next.

_The smoke clears, and through it she sees General Monroe. The relief she felt at the Tower guard's demise is suddenly replaced by heart pounding fear that she will be his next victim. Instead… _

Charlie dipped the first finger inside at the memory of his voice.

"_Hello Charlotte. A thank you would be nice."_

If she could go back to that moment, with any idea of where they'd find themselves seven months later, she'd thank him alright. She added a second finger at the thought of stripping him out of that Militia uniform.

_Now she's slumped on a barroom floor, hoping that the drugs whittle away her consciousness before the creeps begin whatever they have planned for her. Then the locked door bursts inwards. The dust settles and all of the room's occupants turn to see the feral-eyed Sebastian Monroe standing there. _

She began pumping her fingers in earnest at the memory.

_This time Charlie's not afraid. She knows he wants her help. He needs her and that makes her valuable to him. No one takes what belongs to him. She looks at the poor fools between her and the monster in the doorway. She really wants to laugh and tell them how fucked they all are, but the drugs have nearly incapacitated her, and all she can do is watch as Monroe eviscerates them. He bends the last one backward over the table and drives his machete into his chest, penetrating anything and everything vital underneath._

Her recollection of the way he looked down at her, still panting with exertion, made her wish that he was forcefully penetrating her body in a different kind of way.

_She's surrounded by fog and a group of Patriots that are about to fire on her entire family. Then there's a gleam of metal, a splash of blood, and the men go down. The mist parts as Sebastian Monroe steps up with blood dripping from his blades._

The day's earlier events had obviously added to the scrapbook in her mind, and Charlie knew what was coming next.

_He's left her, darted through the exit to save his own skin. Now some random Patriots have her pinned against the wall by her throat and a gun pointed at her head. It seems like an anticlimactic end after everything she's already survived to make it this far._

Charlie's other hand trailed south as well, the pads of her fingers applying pressure to the sensitized nub, spurring her body toward the edge.

_Then out of nowhere the soldier next to the one holding her drops. It distracts her captor and she gets a knife into his gut. As he crumples to the ground, it reveals none other than Sebastian Monroe. "You came back." The only answer he gives her is in his eyes. It's all she needs. Everyone always leaves her. He's the first to come back for her._

"Monroe." She moaned out to the empty room as she edged closer to her release.

"Charlotte." She froze as she realized that the aroused uttering of her name had registered with her ears, not in her head.

Her eyes shot open in panic. There he was, casually leaning against the frame in the partially opened door. Those blue eyes of his locked on her body.

"Close the door!" She yelled at him as she pulled her hand from her underwear and scrambled to sit up.

Instead of leaving, he took a step into the room before kicking the door shut behind him.

"I meant with you on the other side of it." She stood and tugged her jeans up over her hips.

"Is that really want you want?" He took a step toward her and she could see that his eyes were hooded and an obvious bulge was taking form at the front of his pants.

"How long were you there?" The embarrassed question squeaked out of her as she fumbled with the zipper on her jeans and he continued to advance toward her.

As he started to imposingly encroach on her personal space, he answered, "Long enough." He stopped his advance when there was a scant inch between their bodies. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off the other, but no to touch. He looked down at her and an almost cruel smile, reminiscent of General Monroe, graced his features as he asked, "How was I?"

She almost wanted to laugh at his question, the arrogant bastard. But she was still flustered by the intrusion and just grumbled, "Can't say. I didn't get to finish."

His smile took on the slightly more genuine quality of the man she'd spent the last month working alongside, and it made her drop her guard slightly. She hadn't expected what came next. He dropped his hands to her hips and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her jeans. With a gentle tug she was pulled flush up against him. He smelled like sweat and musk with the hint of acrid ash still clinging to him. It should have been disgusting, but it was the smell of fighting and fucking and everything about him that drove her wild when she knew it shouldn't. She was so distracted by the cut of his muscular chest, the way she could feel his abs tensing through his threadbare shirt as he made little adjustments in balance to account for her shifting, and his hardened length straining through his pants against her body, that she almost didn't hear him as he leaned in and whispered into her ear. "Well, we can't have that. I have a reputation to uphold."

Part of her wanted to punch the cocksure smirk off his face, but then she registered that he had unfastened her zipper and was sliding a hand down into her panties. She chewed on her lip as his worn and calloused fingers trailed through the smattering of hair and along her drenched vulva. A small whimper was her only reply as logic and desire fought for control of her body.

"I can stop if this isn't what you want." He offered as his thumb skimmed gingerly across her clit. Her body shuddered and he smiled. "But unless there's someone else around here with my name, I think you do want it." He stroked his thumb over her firmly now, and she couldn't stop herself from leaning into it. That seemed to be all the confirmation he needed, and he guided a finger into her.

She felt each thickened and scarred knuckle penetrate her and decided to just give in to him. She wasn't sure how far he wanted to take this, but her desires had already been whatever the female equivalent of cock-blocked was enough times today. She wrapped her arms around him for sheer need of something to cling to, and he wrapped his free arm around her for extra support as he added a second finger. She moaned into his chest and her knees threatened to give out. He worked his fingers inside her, flexing a knuckle and hitting the spot that made her nearly collapse in his arms.

She didn't even realize that he was moving them toward the bed until she felt the edge of it hit the back of her thighs. Then his fingers had suddenly vacated her, and he shoved her back onto the bed. She wanted to complain about the way he was manhandling her, but it was him, so she took it as part of the package deal that she assumed went with being debauched by Sebastian Monroe. Before she could turn and position herself lengthwise on the bed, he stopped her by pulling off her jeans. She was laying half on the bed, her legs cascading off the side, in the same pose as he'd found her earlier. Except now he was kneeling on the ground in front of her and carefully sliding her underwear down her thighs. Once the small cotton garment was clear of her ankles, he put a hand on each knee and pushed them apart. After giving her an appraising look that felt to Charlie like he was staring for hours, he began kissing up inside of the right thigh.

His unshorn facial hair scratched and tickled the soft flesh, and along with the pleasing sensation of his warm mouth trailing up her leg, Charlie couldn't help but squirm. He put more force into his hold on her knees, opening her wider to him and pinning her legs in place. His mouth had stilled when it reached his destination, and once he seemed convinced that she would stop squirming, he slid his hands up to assist with his task.

At first it was just his hot breath against engorged tissues, but Charlie found even that immeasurably sexy. Then he began placing soft kisses everywhere but where she really wanted his lips to be. She tried to shift against him, but his powerful hands dug bruising fingertips into her thighs and held her still. Instinctual anger at being restrained welled up in her, but at the same time she couldn't deny that there was something about the way he overpowered her that sent an even more desperate need to her loins. In the few trysts she'd engaged in during her time away from her family, she'd always been the aggressor. She'd found satisfaction in the way that the virile boys had submitted to her. But this, this was something else. There was no mistaking that in this endeavor, Monroe's domination was complete. And as much as she was loathe to admit it, she liked it that way.

Then suddenly his fingers were back inside her, spreading her open for him. She stopped thinking as his tongue dipped into her amidst the digits. As his tongue alternated between darting in and out of her and lapping at the edges, she forced herself to prop up onto her elbows and watch. As if sensing her eyes on him, his piercing gaze shot up to meet hers. He moved upwards slightly and, still holding eye contact, he murmured into her, "So wet… for me."

She knew it was true, but she just couldn't stand seeing him that smug. She rolled her eyes and moved a hand to run over the top of his head. If they were playing out her fantasies, then grabbing a hand full of that stupid curly hair while watching him work between her legs had to be near the top. She could feel the tension building inside her as he laved and nipped at her clitoris, his thumb applying gentle pressure just above while his fingers still pulsed in and out of her heat.

She couldn't stop herself from moaning, the desperate sound interrupted by a staccato of gasps each time he applied pressure in just the right places. He had worked her to her breaking point. Just as she was about to give in to the idea of coming against his mouth, her muscles squeezing down on his tongue still buried inside her, he pulled away. The sudden absence of sensation felt like someone had just taken a baseball bat to her chest. "What? Why did you… No!" She hated how needy her voice sounded as the begging words slipped unbidden from her mouth.

He had withdrawn and was now standing between her legs, his hands back on her knees, keeping her spread wide in front of him. He was just grinning down at her. "Did you think I was going to let you get all the way through with this without telling me what you were imagining me doing to you when you were moaning my name earlier?" He released her knees to shrug his top shirt back off his shoulders. "What's it like for you in your mind, Charlotte?"

"In my mind you're not such a tease." She snarked as he pulled his t shirt off over his head and tossed it to the floor.

He laughed appreciatively at the admission and leaned in over her. His expression was now more curious than predatory as he placed hands on her hips and slowly began to trail them up under her shirt, pulling the hem along with them. "What is it about me that turns you on?"

He gently pulled her up into a sitting position as his hands grazed along the side of her breasts over her bra.

"It's embarrassing." She mumbled as he pulled her tank top over her head and threw it to the floor behind him.

"I was hoping that you'd tell me willingly…" He traced the back of his knuckles down over her sternum and between her breasts. "…but, I can turn this into an interrogation if you want." He dipped his fingers beneath the fabric of her bra and cupped her left breast in his hand before roughly squeezing the supple flesh.

She gasped at the sensation of pain mixed with pleasure and leaned forward into him, plastering the side of her face against the hard lines of his abdominal muscles.

As he continued to knead her breast with one hand, his other traced around her back and skillfully unclasped her bra. It slid forward off her shoulders as her hands tugged at his belt.

He stepped back from her and grabbed her hands to still them. "Not until you tell me what I want to know." He pulled the bra from around her arms and dropped it amongst the accumulating pile of clothing on the floor.

She looked up to his face and a lust filled version of the old General's obsessive visage staring down at her. She'd always heard that his interrogation techniques were terrifyingly effective. There was no longer any doubt on the subject. She caved.

Charlie laid back on the bed and crossed her arms over her chest, as if shielding her private parts from his view would make up for exposing her more private desires to him. She sighed and relented, "It's the way you save me all the damn time."

She heard the sound of him kicking off his boots and letting them drop against the hardwood. The admission, now started, wouldn't stop dribbling from her lips. "At the Tower, in that bar, today in that stupid school. I hate feeling helpless, like I can't save myself."

She looked over to see him pulling down his zipper. She sat up in anticipation of the big reveal, and couldn't stop more words from spilling out of her mouth. "But then suddenly they're dead and you're there. These guys completely overpowered me and you just cut through them like they're nothing. And it should make me feel weak, but then you're standing over me and…"

Her voice trailed and faltered as he tugged off his jeans. He stepped toward her and out of the denim pooled around his ankles. Of course he hadn't had on anything underneath. In what kind of world would a man like him ever not go commando.

She suddenly found herself at eye level and only a scant foot or two away from the impressive penis that she had spent so much time fantasizing about. By all accounts it was a very good penis. The size and girth of it were almost imposing, and she suddenly felt a new appreciation for the accuracy of the term 'cocksure' as one of his defining characteristics. Its achingly hard length was covered in velvety smooth skin with just enough veining to belie its function as a throbbing piece of musculature. She wanted to take it in her hands, wanted him to drive it into her. But as he took another step toward the bed (and toward her), she found herself scooting back away from him. She'd had enough experience over the last year and a half for her body to instinctively know that when this particular man approached you with that focused of a look in his eyes, you were meant to be afraid.

He appeared to register the change in her demeanor and made an effort to dial back the intensity. She relaxed and leaned back, stretching her legs down the length of the mattress, laying herself out for him. He even laughed a little as he leaned in toward her and placed a hand on the bed on each side of her waist. "Charlotte, I hate to break this to you, but you aren't all hot and bothered because I saved you those times. You get off on the fact that I killed for you." He climbed onto the bed, hovering over her lower body on all fours.

Charlie didn't even know how to respond to that. Could he be right? Could she really be that twisted?

He advanced slowly up the bed. His body lingered just above hers as he moved like a tiger stalking prey. "It's nothing to be ashamed of." He dipped his head down and placed a soft kiss on the side of her ribcage just below her left breast. "We live in a cruel world and we've all had to adapt to survive. You've adapted better than most." He slid his hand up along her side and firmly cupped her right breast. As the calloused pad of his thumb began tracing rough circles around that nipple, he took the other one in his mouth. First his tongue traced its outline, and then he sucked the firm bud roughly before raking it through his teeth.

Charlie hissed and arched her hips into him at the pleasurable and slightly painful sensation. He was staring at her again when she rolled her eyes back down to look at him, a smirk written proudly across his face. She couldn't let him be right. "Murdering people doesn't turn me on."

He was a little surprised that she didn't add "I'm not you." or some other similar dig at his past.

"I never said it did. But you're a fighter, fierce. You can defend the ones you care about. You need the same in a partner."

She could feel the tip of his penis trailing up the inside of her thigh as he said it, the building pre-cum leaving a small trail in its path. "You saying you're my soul mate?" She sneered at him as he looked up from sucking on her collar bone.

"I'm saying that it's biology. The strong don't end up with the weak." He trailed his tongue along her pulse point in her neck before nipping at the base of her jaw.

She dug her fingernails into his back, appreciating the way it made him lower himself down on top of her. The skin to skin contact was intoxicating. As her hands traced over formed muscles held taught in anticipation of what was about to unfold, she couldn't deny that he was one of the species' strongest and deadliest. She knew he was right. She pictured the types of men she knew that couldn't defend themselves, couldn't protect their own. She pictured Aaron. She loved the guy like family, but anything else… No. Then she pictured the fluid movements and raw power that Bass had exuded as he tore through the deviants in that Texas bar. There was never a doubt that he would kill them all, that he would do whatever was necessary to defend her. It made her want him inside of her already.

She writhed against him as his tongue traced the lines of her ear and then pulled the lobe tantalizingly through his teeth. "We're all just animals." He whispered into her ear as his hand tangled in the base of her hair. "Hardwired to seek out the most advantageous mate possible."

He used the hand in her hair to pull her head to the side and began to devour her neck as his other hand slid down between them. Charlie could feel the blunt end of him throbbing against her fluid slicked entrance. She felt his hand trail down her abdomen, through her damp curls, and rub teasingly over her clit before taking himself in hand. Her body ached for him to finally plunge into her, but she couldn't stop one last remark from spilling out of her lips. "And you think _you_ are the best I can do?"

He quickly removed the hand from her hair and used it to hike her thigh up high over his hip. It opened the angle of her pelvis, already stretching her still vacant insides. His fingers gripped the soft curve of her flexed ass cheek hard enough to leave marks as he murmured "Why don't you tell me." Then in a single movement he crashed his lips down on hers and drove the entire length of his sizable cock as deeply into her as he could.

She cried out, loud enough that her whole family probably would have come barging in if he hadn't buffered the noise by shoving his tongue into her mouth. She clung to his shoulders with one hand while the other was knotted in the sheets. Nothing she'd ever fantasized had even come close to preparing her for the reality of this. He had made it all the way to her cervix on the first thrust. Between the position and the size of him, the pressure inside her body felt as if it were about to tear her apart from the inside. It was terrifying and intense, but at the same time painfully pleasurable beyond any previous experience. She had barely had time to begin adapting to the fullness when he slowly slid almost completely out of her and then rammed back in again. Her hand fisted further into the sheet and she reflexively dug her nails into the flesh of his back deeply enough that she was sure she'd drawn blood.

He was sucking on her bottom lip and made a low rumbling sound, the mixture of a moan and a growl. It was her first indication that she could affect his body in all this, the way he was masterfully manipulating hers. She rolled her pelvis against his and coaxed a small groan from him. Then she released her death grip on the bedding and ran her hand through the short curls on his scalp. He started pumping into and out of her with a steady rhythm, and the tender pain of friction and forced yielding of her vaginal walls gradually gave way to an entirely pleasurable sensation. She rocked up against him, meeting each thrust of his pelvis.

Between their hushed wanton moans he whispered roughly into her ear, "Still think you could do better?"

It was a stupid question. She was having to use gratuitous amounts of effort to delay the explosion of an orgasm that was already threatening to overtake her after a whopping thirty seconds. Every quivering muscle in her body was shouting "No" and he had to know it. She didn't know why, but she still refused to give in to him. "Not entirely convinced I couldn't." The fact that she couldn't even get out a full sentence between needy gasps should have been indication enough that it was a lie. She knew she was in for trouble as she felt him smile against the skin of her neck where he'd been suckling just hard enough to drive her wild, but not to leave a mark. He didn't need to say it. Challenge accepted.

He shifted, pulling his legs up under him and sitting back into a kneeling position while still driving into her. He used the hand that had been on her ass to hold her elevated leg in place, while slowly letting the other trail down her body, ghosting over her breasts and belly before halting just above the blonde curls. His voice was deep and smoldering like burning coal, "Then tell me Charlotte," He lifted the leg from his waist even higher until her ankle was around his neck. She trembled beneath him as her body adapted to the new position. He continued, "Besides your uncle…" Then he moved the hand from her lower abdomen to collect her other leg, coaxing it so both her calves were now resting on his shoulders. Between his voice, the lurid position he'd folded her into, and the feeling of his body boring into hers, Charlie knew she was nearly done for. "How many men have ripped an attacker off you…" He ran his left hand up and down her leg as the right trailed determinedly down her inner thigh. When it found the place where they were joined, he let his thumb lightly trace around them. The gentle touch at the spot where he entered her, continued to move inside her, made her roll her head back into the pillow and arch her back. He kept speaking, his voice nearly a purr now, "…pried their hands from your neck…" At that he moved his hand up, running the heel of his palm over her clit. He rubbed against the sensitive and primed nerve cluster, matching the pressure with the timing of his hips. "… and slit their throats for you?"

What he was doing to her, what he was saying to her… It was like he knew her body and her mind better than she did. There was no holding back any more. The spooled tension in her core erupted and her body seized underneath him. He kept plunging deep into her, prodding her, working her through the spasms until every last part of her broke and she answered him between cries. "Just you. Only you."

As she collapsed back against the mattress he stilled and gently guided her legs down to the bed at his sides. Then he leaned forward over her and stretched his legs out. He pulled her flush against him and rolled them onto their sides, still buried deep in her. She looked to his face, expecting to see a smug smirk after having coerced such a well-guarded admission out of her. Instead, she found him smiling softly at her. He brushed some stray locks of hair back behind her ear and let his hand trail across her cheek as he placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

The kiss was almost sweet, and for a second she nearly forgot who was in her arms. He ran soothing palms up and down her spine as he began softly rocking back and forth within her. It was nice and not at all unpleasant, but it was just so unexpected. She pulled her mouth away from his and teased, "You're not gonna gloat?"

"About what? You didn't tell me anything I didn't already know." He tried to keep his tone comforting, but a hint of smugness rang through.

"And he's back." Charlie quipped and grinned at him.

He rolled his eyes at her and then flipped them so that she was on top of him. His hands were still rubbing calming circles on her back, and she rested her head against his chest as their bodies moved languidly together. He trailed a hand down her shoulder and arm and entwined their fingers. Then he brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed the tip of each of them.

That was it for Charlie. Getting pounded through the mattress by Monroe was one thing. Making love to the completely unrecognizable man beneath her was something else entirely. She sat up so that she was straddling him and moved to crawl off of him. A sudden authoritative grip on her hips held her in place and ground her against him.

"Where do you think you're going?" The tone wasn't friendly.

She looked down at him with all the seriousness she could muster. "Thanks for… before, but I don't know what you think is happening here now."

He laughed at her. His hands on her hips continued to move her against him at a leisurely pace as he spoke. "That… was about what you needed. Now it's my turn."

She opened her mouth to speak, a biting comeback dangling from her lips, but he cut her off. "Tisk tisk, Charlotte. I hadn't expected you to be quite so selfish in this department."

She gave him an indignant look, partially because the "tisk" thing made her feel like a disobedient child and partially because she knew he was right. He had just done things with her body that she would be reliving in her fantasies for the indefinite future. She could at least hang around to get him off.

"Fine. What do _you_ need?"

"Wow. When you put it like that…" He started to lift her hips as if to push her off of him.

"No." She put a hand on his chest and looked honestly into his eyes. "It's just… I mean… It was like you were in my head, knew everything I wanted. I have no idea what you want, what you like." She sighed as she admitted the last part. His level of experience and expertise in this arena put hers to shame.

He sat up and pulled her against his chest. He put his forehead to hers and stroked her hair as he spoke, "You need someone strong enough to be brutal when they have to be. I need someone strong enough to stop me when I don't have to be."

She understood. He just wanted an opportunity to prove he wasn't always a monster. Someone looking through everything and still seeing him as a man, trusting him, that was his big turn on. She could do that for him.

"Tell me how we do this." She whispered in his ear. She knew it had been the right thing to say, because she felt him reflexively surge upward inside her.

"You think you can even pretend to enjoy this for a while?" He looked at her like he was teasing, but she knew his secret now. He was afraid she couldn't. That no one who knew him could.

She ground down onto him, rolling her clit along his pelvic bone. She chewed on her lip before looking up to meet his eyes and answering, "Shouldn't be a problem," She saw the slight flash of worry in his deep blue eyes. He knew she could use his body. That wasn't what he'd been asking. After only a beat she smiled and added, "…Bass." She'd never used his nickname before. The fact that she'd chosen to do so now seemed to delight him. He sighed into the nape of her neck and started trailing kisses up toward her chin. Their hands started exploring, and she realized that she did rather like the needy little noises he was making against her skin.

He kissed her and the meeting of their tongues was comfortable and almost familiar. The pace he set lacked the usual urgency she associated with sex, and eventually she shoved his chest so that he was lying flat on his back while she rode him vigorously, but not violently. Just as she thought he was getting close, he pulled her down to him, kissed her, and pinned her underneath him. The tempo he picked up was slow and controlled.

"Any reason you're trying to draw this out?" She huffed at him.

"You got somewhere better you gotta be?" He asked curiously.

She thought about it for a moment. "Nah." She fell into rhythm with him as he laughed at her. She'd always viewed sex as a goal oriented task, a way to scratch a particular itch whenever it arose. The idea of it being something you did for fun had never really occurred to her.

"Really. What kind of amateurs have you been sleeping with?" He said with a grin.

"Well we can't all have your yeeeeeeeaaaars of practice." She'd dragged out the word to rib him about his age.

"Pretty sure I've heard something about experience being better than youth." He balanced his weight on his elbows and thrust into her deeply a few times, making her gasp and groan as he hammered roughly into her cervix.

When he finally stilled and looked down at her, she was obviously fighting a combination of arousal and discomfort. "I think your experience just bruised my spleen."

He couldn't not laugh at her after that. Then she started laughing and his arms gave out. He collapsed on top of her and they laughed together. She finally silenced him by colliding her mouth against his. After that, the sex became playful. They took turns teasing each other and exacting their vengeance through particularly distracting maneuvers. For nearly an hour they ran through a litany of different positions, laughing when some turned out too awkward or ended with one of them accidentally slamming their head against the headboard. Once they even ended up actually falling out of the bed and worried that the audible thud would send someone up to check on them. When no one came, the incident became rather hilarious to them.

She was lying flat on her stomach with him entering her from behind when they both realized that they couldn't hold out any longer. His hand was underneath her, teasing where they came together and providing pressure for her to grind against. His movements were just starting lose their precision when she came around him, moaning "Bass" into the pillow. He pumped into her a few more times before quickly withdrawing and rolling onto his back beside her. Charlie would have been content to just pass out the way she was sprawled on the bed, but she heard him still moaning in urgency with the sound of his hand forcefully stroking himself toward completion. She moved over to him, molding her body along his side and wrapping her hand around his as he jerked aggressively at his dick.

"Tell me what you want." She whispered into his ear and then started gently chewing on the associated earlobe.

She felt his muscles tightening and beginning to spasm uncontrollably against her as he breathily cried out, "You. Fuck. It's always been you." He turned and his eyes met hers as he said it, an almost guilty look hidden within the icy blue irises.

Their lips crashed together and she squeezed his tip as he came, spilling himself into her hand and dripping down between her fingers onto his stomach. He kissed her desperately as his muscles quivered and eventually calmed.

He laid next to her, chest heaving, showing no sense of urgency in his efforts to gain control of his panting breath. She was equally spent, and made no move to disentangle herself from him. They both slowly began to recover, her grip on him tender as his erection softened in her hand.

Once they both seemed to have regained their composure, she reached for the damp wash cloth from where she'd left it on the nightstand earlier and wiped the evidence of their tryst from between her legs and then from her hand. After tending to her own hygiene, she passed him the rag so that he could do the same.

After a few silent moments, she couldn't fight back the curiosity any longer. "What did you mean by 'it's always been me'?" She asked offhandedly as he cleaned himself up.

She noticed him still, and then return to his scrubbing without answering.

"It's ok. You don't have to tell me." She couldn't keep it from sounding a little disappointed. It was the first time she knew of that he'd kept anything from her.

He reached up and deposited the wash cloth back on the night stand. Then he rolled onto his side and looked her in the eyes. "It's not good."

She almost laughed at him. "Bass, I know better than anyone exactly who you are and who you used to be. I know what we've done, and tried to do, to each other in the past. I admitted to it when you walked in here today and caught me masturbating to memories of you cutting people apart for me. I'm pretty sure that 'not good' would be an improvement at this point."

"Don't say I didn't warn you." He muttered before rolling away from her and onto his back. He looked up at the ceiling as he admitted, "In Philadelphia. When you were ready to sacrifice yourself for your family. I'd never seen anyone like you before, still haven't. You looked right through me, fearless and defiant to what you thought would be your last breath. In that moment, I knew that you were either going to destroy me, or save me from myself. I was so turned on, I nearly fucking came in my pants right there."

She almost wanted to laugh at him. That after everything that had come to pass between them, he thought_ this_ would send her fleeing in horror. He had been one of the strongest and most feared men on the continent at that point, and without even trying she had nearly brought him to climax with a single look. She actually found it kind of… hot.

She rolled over to lay half next to and half on top of him. She rested her head on his chest and threaded a leg in between his as she let her hand graze across his pecs. "So what's the verdict? Destruction or salvation?"

Her thigh rubbed softly up against his balls, and she felt the sac constrict reflexively in appreciation. He made a soft mewling sound before offering, "Shit. Is 'both' an answer?"

She gave a soft mirthful laugh at his response. He collected her in his arms and rolled them so that she was flat on her back, and he was weighing down on top of her. He kissed her with abandon, and she couldn't help but notice his flaccid dick starting to stir where is was pressed between them. In turn, moisture began pooling between her folds again in anticipation of the next round.

He reluctantly broke the kiss and stared down at her. "We should probably go check on Miles. Put in an appearance downstairs before anyone realizes how long we've been up here."

She knew he was right. The last thing they needed was her mother bursting in on them mid-coitus. But she also knew that once they got up and dressed that the spell would be broken, and whatever it was that had happened between them would be over, probably for good. "Yeah. We should see how Miles is doing." She answered almost sadly.

He hesitated before eventually climbing off of her and out of the bed. She just watched for a moment, enjoying the view as he bent over and picked up his jeans and then pulled them on. He caught her watching him and smirked at her before tossing her her own clothes from the pile on the floor. They both dressed quickly and were soon standing together at the door. They both obviously wanted to say something, but neither had any idea what. This had, in all likelihood, been an experience that would not be repeated. The moment Miles was able to sit upright, they would all be back on the road. It would be back to running from the Patriots, making camp in the woods, and holing up in derelict buildings with everyone crammed in like sardines. They wouldn't have a moment's privacy to even take a piss, let alone two hours to leisurely work out their warped fantasies.

They arrived downstairs together to a look of anger and suspicion from Gene, but before he could say anything, Rachel's frantic voice pulled them all in towards Miles. His eyelids fluttered and then drifted open. Glassy brown eyes scanned the room before a shaky voice asked, "What happened?"

Gene shoved a thermometer in his mouth and after a minute read out, "Ninety-nine point eight. Fever's coming down nicely."

Seeing that Miles had stabilized, the group immediately broke down into their familiar roles. Charlie helped Gene pack up the medical supplies they would need to continue treating Miles on the road while Bass darted off into the night to procure them a wagon. Rachel stayed supportively by Miles's side, and Aaron sat around, still verging on catatonia, occasionally sipping from his flask. They were on the road within hours.


	2. Survival of the Fittest

Needs - Survival of the Fittest

Life on the run again went basically as they had expected. Miles recovered and they were quickly back into the fray of attempting to topple a corrupt military regime. Charlie and Bass had fallen back into their roles as good little soldiers under her uncle's command, and never gave any hint that their torrid little fling had ever taken place.

Then one day, as they were fleeing through the woods after a raid on a Patriot supply depot, Charlie looked back over her shoulder to make sure her mother had escaped behind her. She saw her take off in the opposite direction, as they'd all been instructed to scatter. As Charlie turned her head back to the path in front of her she was suddenly clotheslined across the throat by a Patriot that had jumped out from behind the trunk of a large tree. She landed flat on her ass and fought to suck in air through her collapsed windpipe. The man was significantly larger than her and grabbed her by the throat before she'd even had a chance to catch her breath. Using just the one hand on her neck, he lifted her up off the ground and pinned her against the tree he'd used for cover. Charlie clawed futilely at the hand restraining her. He got up in her personal space and growled something about "terrorist scum" at her. She spit in his face and kicked wildly at him as the edges of her vision started to fade to black. He leaned in to say something to her again, but his facial expression instantly dropped and crimson blood began to pour from his lips in a gruesome cascade down his chin. His grip on her neck faltered, her feet dropped back to the ground, and her field of view widened as oxygen returned to her brain. It was then that she saw the bowie knife yanked quickly out of the Patriot's neck where it had been lodged. The gargantuan man crumpled to the forest floor, revealing the identity of her savior.

Bass's expression was feral at first, but quickly morphed into something different but no less primal, as they held each other's gaze. She had no doubt that her expression looked equally as hungry. This thing that happened between them in these moments was no longer a secret. There was a split second where she actually thought he was going pin her against the tree, tug down their pants, and take her right there. She wouldn't have stopped him. Instead, he growled "Later." Before turning and using his sword to fend off an attacker that had come up behind him. She dove in next to him, and they fought their way side by side back to safety.

That evening Charlie could never remember a day in her life where it had seemed to take so long to set up camp for the night and cook dinner. Then it was like none of them were tired, everyone all elated by their victorious raid. It was an eternity before the rest had finally fallen asleep, Bass on first watch. She had volunteered to go second, though her motives were far from altruistic.

He was sitting quietly by the campfire when she came to him. She reached her hands down to him and he grabbed them both, letting her pull him to his feet. Once they were both standing she didn't let go of his hands. They stood chest to chest, him looking down at her as she pushed his hand down her pants. The angle wasn't ideal, but he still managed to get a finger into her. She writhed against his hand and fought to keep silent. They were standing in the middle of their camp, only feet from everyone that they had to hide this, whatever it was, from the most. Her hand, still clasped in his free one, rubbed against the front of his pants and he dropped his forehead to her shoulder, working to fight back a moan that would give them away.

He lifted his head and locked eyes with her. He pulled his hand out of her pants and led her silently through the maze of her sleeping relatives and to a tree on the outskirts of the little clearing. They were far enough away for some privacy, but close enough that he could still dutifully keep watch over the others. Putting the tree's wide trunk between them and the rest of the group, he ground her up against it. They kissed aggressively and worked each other's pants unfastened and then down around their boots. He entered her heedlessly and without warning. She bit down on his tongue to stop herself from crying out. She tasted copper in her mouth and realized that she had drawn blood. She instantly pulled her head back away, casting him a worried look. She hadn't meant to hurt him. The look in his eyes was electric, the blue in them shining like the edges of a particularly violent strike of lightning. He ran his tongue briefly over his chapped lips before taking her mouth and forcing the damaged appendage into a sort of battle with her own tongue as he began thrusting his hips against her. There would be nothing gentle or playful this time.

They knew the stakes, and both managed to stay completely silent. She'd have to wear a jacket over her tank top for the next few days to hide the bruises and bite marks he'd left along her shoulders in an attempt to keep quiet. She'd been equally violent, having chewed his lower lip bloody, but it would be easily passable as an injury sustained in the previous day's fight. The only noises they made were the ones that, by the nature of the act, they couldn't stop – his fluid slicked cock sliding through her folds and the soft sound of his balls slapping against the skin of her inner thigh as they thrust against each other.

He had his mouth on her inner right wrist, teeth scraping and tongue worshiping the brand, his brand, melted into her skin when she unexpectedly came around him. He hadn't realized how close he'd been until he felt himself starting to spasm against her. He barely managed to pull out before he spilled himself into the soft curls and against her inner thigh. Now it was his turn to give an apologetic look. She shrugged him off. He always looked nearly pained when he would have to pull out of her. She knew the potential complications were nowhere near worth the risk, but she couldn't help but want to know what it would feel like for him to pump himself to completion inside her.

They cleaned themselves off and snuck back into the camp undetected. His shift was almost up, and so he slid into his bedroll. She sat down near the fire, a few feet away from him. A glance in his direction confirmed her suspicion that he was, in fact, staring at her. The look was appraising, like he was trying to figure out what she was thinking. She gave him a stern look suggesting that he should just go to sleep, and he seemed to accept that as an answer to his unvoiced question. He was asleep within minutes of forcing his lids shut.

Charlie sat and let the crackling sound of the dying fire drift through her mind, mingling with her contemplative thoughts. They'd done it again. The tone of the experience had been different, but the raw need was still the same. Maybe he'd been right and they were just animals, at least when it came to this. Her body processed the sensations of tender skin along her shoulders and collar bone where his mouth had marked her, and the dull ache between her legs from the vigorous pounding. As much as it never should have happened in the first place, she found it surprisingly easy to anticipate it happening again. She didn't want to think about what that meant.

A few hours later Miles began to stir. It was like he had some internal alarm clock that always alerted him when it was time awaken to go on watch. She walked past her uncle on her way to her own bed roll.

"Any trouble?" He asked with a yawn.

"Not a sound." Only she knew there was a double entendre in her statement.

Miles appraised her for a second before commenting, "You look wore out. Get some rest." He ruffled a hand in her hair, but stopped and withdrew a small piece of bark that he looked at curiously.

She shrugged her shoulders innocently at him and then ran a hand through her hair to ensure that there was no more evidence left behind.


	3. The Origin of Species

Needs - The Origin of Species

It was more than a month later, the next time they had any time alone to indulge themselves. Charlie was supposed to be out hunting and Bass scouting the area while the others set up camp. They'd been in more than a few skirmishes since the last time, and while he hadn't had to overtly rescue her again since then, they had spent a lot of time fighting side by side. They had developed a rhythm together in battle. They knew exactly when to lay down cover fire while the other reloaded, how to stand back to back amidst a ring of Patriots and take on attackers from all sides, how to feel when the other was going to make a sweeping move and to avoid getting in their way, where on the other's body to reach for a weapon if they had been disarmed, how to communicate strategy with only their eyes. Whatever dramas were playing out between Bass and her family the rest of the time, in battle they'd developed a trust that was absolute.

There had been a building need to take that familiarity with the other's body and movements, from the battlefield to the bedroom. But there was no bedroom. There was a random spot covered in snow behind some boulders on the side of a ridgeline. That was all they got, but they were willing to work with it.

They were solidly in the middle a rough Plains winter, so they were forced to keep as much clothing on as possible. Thick jackets dulled the sensation of hands moving over their bodies as he leaned her back into the snow. She shivered and arched away from the cold against her backside as he pulled her pants down just enough to allow access. He undid his zipper and tugged his jeans down just a bit before quickly sliding himself into her.

She moaned his name at the sensation of him filling her. Even though it had been many weeks since their last encounter, it was like her body remembered him a little more this time, and the initial penetration hadn't come with the same uncomfortable stretching sensation it had on their previous couplings. She was getting used to having Sebastian Monroe inside her. That was a slightly mind numbing thought.

The abundance of clothing was fairly restrictive and limited the creativity of their positioning together, but they had developed enough familiarity with each other by this time to know how to best utilize what they had to work with. He brought her to climax rather efficiently. She was beginning to wonder if she was just that easy or if he had some kind of superhuman level of restraint and control down there he used to ensure he always satisfied her before letting himself go. That just sounded like something he'd do.

He continued to pump into her, obviously not wanting to pull out and subject his very sensitive appendage to the biting cold any sooner than necessary. She certainly couldn't blame him. Her gloved hands were still cold enough that she had dug them into the back pockets of his jeans for extra warmth to ward off losing a finger to frostbite. She didn't want to imagine how uncomfortable it would be for him when the bitterly cold air would hit moist and aroused tissues, let alone having to use a freezing cold and partially numb hand to beat himself off with. She felt bad. She'd had no trouble or discomfort getting to the hazy plane of satisfaction she was currently drifting on. It didn't seem fair to make him suffer for it.

She felt his movements becoming swifter and more forceful as his muscles tightened in anticipation of having to abruptly roll off of her. When she felt him starting to pull away, she used the hands on his ass to pull his hips back down deeper against hers.

"You don't have to." She whispered in his ear.

"What?" He seemed sure he had misunderstood her intent.

"You pull out and you're gonna lose it to frostbite. Stay in me. I want you to." She kissed the area just beneath his ear that she knew he liked.

"You sure? What about…"

"Not the right time." She muttered back. At least she was pretty sure it wasn't.

"Ok." The idea obviously hadn't been a hard sell for him.

Any lingering doubts she'd had about the idea quickly evaporated from her mind as he began pounding into her with complete abandon. He had his hands on her hips, pulling her to him with each thrust. He made no attempt to stop the ragged groans of pleasure from ripping out of his chest as he bottomed out in her a last few times. Then his movements degraded into jerky little spasms as he kept her pulled tightly against him. She could actually feel the warm fluid accumulating deep inside her with each tremor that racked through his body as he made some indescribably sexy moaning whimper of a noise.

As they laid in the snow, still clinging to each other, she had to admit that that had been far more arousing than she'd ever imagined it would be. She almost instantly wanted to do it again. It was like an instinctual craving. She now understood exactly how it was that their relatively stupid species managed to flourish. It just wasn't fair for something with such potentially catastrophic circumstances to feel that good. She realized that the same could be said for even just having sex with Bass, let alone allowing him to come inside her.

Even through all the layers of clothes between them, she could feel all his tensed muscles gradually relax as he nuzzled her neck. She wondered if the experience was really that much better for him too. A few minutes later, though still inside her, his dick was only half-hard, and he groaned as he slowly slid it out and quickly zipped up. Once he was off her, she stood up to pull her pants back up over her bare hips. The sudden shift back to vertical caused a small puddle of their combined fluids to leak out of her and down her inner thigh. She should have thought it was gross, but she realized that she suddenly found it anything but gross. They separated and began preparing to attend to their assigned tasks. She shook her head as the cold air hit her face and seemed to bring her a small bit of clarity. She had Sebastian Monroe's semen dripping down the inside of her leg and somehow she found that to be a turn on. Was she high? She gave him one last glance before heading off to go attempt to catch them dinner, and her eyes met a gaze that was thankful and reverent, like she had just given him the world. Yup. She was high on _something _alright.

The next morning, in the harsh light of day and after the raging hormones had fled her system, she felt like vomiting. What had she done? How could she have been that stupid? Why did having his dick inside her seem to have completely shut off her brain? She tried thinking back to everything Maggie had tried to teach her about the female reproductive cycle. That was probably the only good part of going through her teen years under the care of a woman that wasn't actually her mother – there had been none of that squeamish emotional baggage of worrying about your child having sex attached to the lessons on womanly topics. Maggie had been forthcoming and informative for the most part. Charlie realized that she had probably been fairly resentful around that time period, and she regretted not being able to tell Maggie how much she had appreciated the honesty. And now she also really wished she had paid better attention.

She briefly thought about trying to covertly wrangle information out of her mom or physician grandfather, but the idea of talking about sex with either of them was possibly more horrifying than the idea that Monroe's spawn could be growing inside her at that very moment. She really wanted to vomit.

Then the resentment sank in. This wasn't her fault. It was his. He was supposed to be so much older and wiser. Why hadn't he stopped himself? Sure she'd told him to do it, but that was no excuse. She let the familiar feeling of anger toward the man she'd spent so long abhorring creep back into her chest.

Breakfast that morning had been a nightmare. Bass had reached across her to grab a cup of coffee and she'd almost put her field knife into his forearm.

"Alright Bass, what'd you do?" Miles's glare was accusatory when he pulled Bass aside after breakfast.

"I didn't do anything. What are you talking about?" Bass didn't pull off innocent well. At least not with this crowd.

"Charlie looked like she was back to being ready to kill you at the drop of a hat this morning. What did you do?"

"How the hell should I know what crawled up her ass and died? Why do you always assume I've done something?"

"Because I know you. You always do something." Miles glared at him.

"Not this time, man." Bass shook his head and walked away.

Bass wasn't an idiot. He got the point. He'd been a very bad dog. So he gave Charlie her space. They worked together when Miles told them to, but he otherwise left her to her sulking and abject horror at the prospect of being potentially knocked up.

Two weeks later, Charlie had never been as happy in all her life as she was to feel the uncomfortable cramping in her lower abdomen and the wave of fluid trickling out into her underwear.

That night, as she sat by the fire on watch, he came and sat next to her. He gently nudged her shoulder with his. "We ok now?"

He knew. She had no idea how he'd figured it out, but somehow he knew she'd started bleeding.

"Yeah. I know." He'd correctly interpreted her silence.

"How?" What was the tell? Did she give off some obvious sign of impairment? Was it a weakness that someone could spot in a fight?

"It's about the right time and you started walking with a shorter stride. You're clenching your abs and arching your back a little when you sit."

"That's… disturbingly perceptive." She wasn't sure whether to be impressed or creeped out.

"Pays to be able to read the people you're fighting with. Lives depend on it and all that shit."

She looked at him a little in awe.

"Wanna know how to tell if Miles has blue balls?"

She barely stifled a laugh. "No, I really don't."

"How 'bout being able to tell when your mom is thinking about murdering me in my sleep?"

"That's easy. It's any time she's breathing." She smiled at him.

He smiled back at her. "So we ok?" He pulled his hand out of his glove and slid it under the back of her jacket and shirt. He worked it in gentle circles against the small of her back.

The friction of skin against skin and the warmth of his hand crept through her and began to relax the spasming muscles of her lower back and within her core. She leaned back slightly into the soothing touch and murmured "Sometimes you make it really hard to remember I'm supposed to hate you."

He nodded, the answer obviously not exactly what he'd wanted to hear. They sat that way in silence for a while, letting the small fire warm them as he continued to rub her back. She looked over at him and tried to impartially evaluate the man beside her. He had the hood of his pre-blackout era parka up, the line of fake fur around the edges framing his face. Underneath a few errant curls were stuck to his forehead where they peaked out under a knit cap. He'd kept the scruffy facial hair for warmth, though she noticed a few ice crystals clinging in the hairs at the edge. And then there were those disturbingly expressive blue eyes staring off into the fire, small lines crinkling the wind burnt skin at the edges. There was no trace left, physical or behavioral, of the man she was supposed to hate for destroying her family.

She dropped her head onto his shoulder and admitted, "Yeah. We're ok." She still wasn't exactly sure what "we" was, but it was ok. He leaned his cheek against the top of her head, and she could feel him smiling.

"You know if you had been… I would have…"

She cut him off. "You would have been dead. Because Miles would have killed you."

"Fair enough." After another few quiet minutes he wistfully added, "My kingdom for some Trojans."

"You already lost your kingdom. I think it was over some pendants and a helicopter."

"Smart ass."

When Miles woke to take over watch they were still sitting by the fire together, though he had removed his hand from her back and they'd put a respectable distance between them.

"So," His stare was suspicious as he eyed them, "I take it this means you two made up?"

"Weren't fighting in the first place." Bass answered evenly.

"Uh huh." Miles's voice was still disbelieving.

Charlie just rolled her eyes and walked to her bed roll. They were all clustered fairly close together on the frozen dirt under the rocky overhang that was protecting them and their little fire from the snow and wind. Bass wasn't far behind and climbed into his sleeping bag a few feet away from Charlie's.

It was still dark when Charlie woke to some muffled sounds and a feeling of cold suddenly replacing warmth on her back. She opened her eyes to find that the sounds were Miles's boot none-too-gently shoving Bass's shoulder away from her. Apparently they'd migrated towards each other in their sleep for warmth. While it had been entirely innocent, each was still completely ensconced in their own sleeping bag, Miles appeared to take offense at the unconscious heat-seeking behavior. He was standing and looming over them kicking Bass until he rolled an appropriate distance from his niece.

"Ow. Jesus, Miles. What's your problem?" Bass grumbled.

Miles just looked down at him with burning eyes. "You. Over there." He pointed to a spot further away from the group. "You freeze to death before you get that close to her again. Understood?"

"Whatever. Fine. You're making a big deal out of nothing." Bass groaned as he scooted even further away from her, to the spot that Miles had now assigned him.

"And it's your turn to be on watch." Miles glared and then walked over to his bed roll next to Rachel.

It was probably still at least an hour until it was actually Bass's turn to be on watch, but he wasn't exactly in a place to object. Charlie shot Bass a knowing look and a slightly contemptuous eye roll as they watched Miles snuggle up to Rachel. Her mother and uncle had never even contemplated that anyone in their group would be less than completely on board with the development in their relationship. She loved them both, but they could be hypocritical ass holes some times. Bass just shrugged back at her, unzipped his sleeping bag and wrapped it around his shoulders like a blanket as he sat back against the rock face.

After about half an hour of tossing and turning in her sleeping bag, Charlie admitted defeat. She was cold, crampy, and agitated. She wasn't going to get to sleep until she found a way to vent her aggravation and take her mind off of her physical discomfort. Her eyes trailed over to the furthest edge of the shallow cave, where her favorite form of distraction was currently giving her a quizzical look. Yeah. He'd do.

A quick glance around the camp revealed everyone else to be sound asleep. Charlie silently slid out of her sleeping bag, unzipped it, and wrapped it around herself as she tip-toed over to where he was sitting half reclined against the rock wall. He just smiled and shook his head at her as she sat down next to him. He lifted his arm, allowing her to curl up against him before draping his sleeping bag around her shoulders as well.

He whispered into her ear, "You sure you aren't still trying to get me killed? Because Miles is right there, and if he wakes up…"

Her lips met his to silence him as she spread her opened sleeping bag over their bodies like a blanket. Her leg slid in between his and her hand trailed down his torso and started working at his belt buckle. She pulled her mouth away from his, dragging his bottom lip between her teeth. "Then you better make sure not to wake him up."

With his pants unfastened, she slid her hand into the fabric and extracted his only semi-rigid shaft. He was coming around quickly as she tentatively stroked her fingertips along his length, but she still had to give him a questioning look.

He groaned into her ear, "Give me a minute. As you so like to remind me, I'm old. When it's this cold out, zero to sixty is gonna take a few seconds."

She just smiled and kissed him again as her hand continued to fondle him. What she really wanted to do was pull down her own pants, straddle him, and work her muscles down there around him until they were too spent to cramp any more. The problem with that plan was that in her current condition, by the time they were done, they'd end up having to explain why their clothes, bedding, and the cave floor looked like a small animal had been butchered all over them. Nope. Down there was off limits for the next four to five days.

But she still wanted to do _something_. He'd come damn close to actually being tender with her earlier in the night, and then had taken the full brunt of Miles's displeasure with their conservation of body heat. It had to be the fluctuating hormones, because she found it all unwelcomely endearing. She could try to lie to herself all she wanted, but this had somehow become more than just a good fuck that happened when they were bored and horny. She actually cared about what he wanted, what he liked, how it was for him, and damned if she hadn't actually started caring about him. She knew she needed to do something to derail that train of thought and distract him before he managed to discover her traitorous musings, and she knew just the thing to do it.

While still kissing him, she shifted to straddle his thighs. Then she broke the kiss, smirked at him, and pulled the blanket up over her head. She heard his head thunk back against the rock as she disappeared under the covers and trailed south. She tugged his pants down a bit, fully exposing him before she reached forward and cupped his balls in her hand. The muscles in his thighs tensed and strained as she began kneading his sac in one had while grasping the base of his erection with the other. She slid her hand along him once, eliciting some barely controlled squirming underneath her. He throbbed eagerly in her hand, bringing a smile to her face. This time she was in control, and she was going to enjoy it. She encircled the base of his shaft with her hand and angled him up toward her. She licked her lips before she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on the top of his head. His muscles gave a coarse tremor at the contact, and she parted her lips slightly, letting her tongue flit out across the slit at his tip. He shifted beneath her in anticipation and fisted the blanket around her. She smiled briefly before letting her tongue venture out further, exploring the flared rim of tissue along the edge of his head as her lips parted further to take in just the tip of him. He shifted his pelvis, obviously fighting the urge to start thrusting into her mouth. She used the hand at the base to hold him down as she gently massaged his testicles and drew in the first few inches of him between her lips.

A deep, pained sigh was the only sound that escaped him, and Charlie found herself rather impressed at his ability to control his vocalization. Which then struck her as sort of funny, considering that she couldn't think of any other situation where he ever managed to keep his big mouth shut. She slowly slid him back out of her mouth, and he shuddered. Next she traced her tongue over the tip, around the head, and then down the shaft to where her hand held him, before returning to the tip. One of his hands snaked under the blanket and fisted in her hair at the base of her scalp. She could feel him coiling like a spring beneath her, and relented her teasing. With her lips pursed to cover the edge of her incisors, she slowly slid him into her mouth as far as she could. When the hand clenched in her hair relaxed its grip slightly, she slid him nearly completely out, pausing to gently suck the tip before plunging him back into her mouth. She worked him like that for a while, before he lost some of his restraint and bucked against her, jarring himself against the back of her throat. He stilled, realizing what he'd done, and she fought off the urge to gag. Her laryngeal spasm under control, she even managed to inch him in a bit further.

He whimpered and whispered her name breathlessly. She slid her lips up and down his straining cock a few times before he started gently rolling his pelvis to meet her. She worked through her gag reflex as he fucked her mouth, the thrusts coming quicker and deeper as she made no attempt to stop him. She noticed the subtle clues that he tried to give her to let her know that he was getting close. In their current position and predicament it was going to be a mess. A mess they had no good way to clean up or effectively hide with everyone a few scant yards away from them and Miles already on alert. Ugh. Wasn't a variant on this exact decision that got them into this in the first place? Well at least this time she was being pragmatic about it. With a slight eye roll she continued to suck him off. Even with her mental preparation, she still nearly choked herself when the first spurt of warm viscous fluid hit the back of her throat. With the forced effort and bodily control of a soldier following orders, she made herself swallow. As she choked down a second swallow of the acrid and salty mixture, she vowed to herself that this was certainly not something that would be happening again. Let him come up with some excuse for Miles as to why he was covered in jizz. Once he finished, she swallowed again attempting to clear everything out of her oral cavity, but failed to rid herself of the taste in her mouth.

Before she could worry that she was about to retch everything back up, hands were on her shoulders and pulled her up into his arms. His facial expression got stuck somewhere between worshipping and apologetic as he caught sight of her uncomfortable and nauseated look. He quickly reached over to his pack and produced a flask. She grabbed it from him, unscrewed the cap, and slugged back whatever was left in it. He tried fairly hard to resist laughing at her, but ultimately failed.

She glared at him, the insinuation that this was all his fault hanging in the air between them. Still snickering, he grabbed her and pulled her to him, kissing her passionately. When they parted he looked at her for a moment before taking the pad of his thumb and wiping imaginary evidence from the corners of her mouth. She punched his chest as he smirked.

He zipped up his pants as she curled up around his side, his arm and blanket again draped around her shoulders and her blanket pulled up to their chins. Warm and thoroughly distracted, she caught a few hours of sleep there with him before returning to her isolated spot near the fire as not to give away their little secret.

Feeling cold and awkward in her sleeping bag by herself, she couldn't keep the unwelcomed thoughts from creeping into her head. Now, not only did she look forward to sleeping with Sebastian Monroe, but she actually enjoyed literally sleeping with him too. Damn. There was no possible way that this was going to end well.


	4. Social Darwinism

Needs - Social Darwinism

The group had been travelling southeast for a few weeks chasing the Patriots. The change in latitude combined with an early thaw had made the weather conditions much more pleasant. As plant life began to reappear in green little shoots and migratory song birds could once again be heard chirping in the trees, Charlie and Bass had already settled into their own version of Spring Fever.

Maybe it was some level of jealousy from watching Miles and Rachel snuggle up together every night and make no qualms about flagrantly sneaking off together for some alone time. Or perhaps it had something to do with the fact that no one in the group outwardly questioned Bass's intentions or motivations anymore, as if he was now as much one of the good guys as Aaron or Gene. It could also have been because they were getting into dangerous scrapes on a more and more frequent basis, reminding them that there was no guarantee that any of them would see tomorrow. Or maybe the sex was really just that good. But Bass and Charlie were having a hard time keeping their hands off each other. Any excuse to go hunting together, any night on watch where they weren't actively fending off soldiers, basically any time they could get out of sight or earshot for five minutes would find the pair wrapped up in each other in some state of undress.

In their desperation, they were starting to take greater and greater risks. In retrospect, what happened next was seemingly inevitable.

An attempted raid on a supply depot had gone well, but their getaway had not been clean. They'd been on the run for three solid days with no sleep and certainly no alone time. When they were finally out of danger and made camp on the fourth night, Bass and Charlie both nearly tripped over themselves volunteering to take first watch. It wasn't five whole minutes after the last group member's head hit their pillow when Bass and Charlie dragged each other behind the supply wagon and started tearing off their clothes.

Charlie was sitting on the edge of the wagon's back tailgate, her pants hanging from one ankle and her legs wrapped around Bass's hips. His pants were down past his knees and he was already buried deep in her, pounding relentlessly against her pelvis. They were too engaged with each other to even realize that the motion of their bodies was causing the wagon to creak on its old axels ever so slightly. He had a hand pulling her hips against him and the other palming her breast through the fabric of her long sleeved top. Her hands were running through his hair, then dropped to pull off his shirt. Their mouths parted just long enough for the tee to be pulled over his head. Her hands dropped to trace over the contours of his chest and abdominal musculature as he continued to remove the shirt. His arms were still over his head, entwined in the cotton garment when disaster struck.

"Hey guys, what's…" Aaron had somehow appeared out of nowhere, drawn in by the creaking wagon sounds. They were caught in the act with no way to hide it. "Ah c'mon! No. NO. NO! This is not happening." He groaned, put his palms up to his eyes, and turned away before storming back toward the rest of the camp about fifty yards away.

"Fuck." Bass spat as he dislodged Charlie, pulled his shirt back down over his head, and pulled up his pants to chase after Aaron.

He caught up to him and grabbed his shoulder. Aaron instantly turned and got into Bass's face. "I have known her since she was a little girl… and you… YOU?" He looked so angrily horrified Bass was afraid something around them might ignite.

"Look, this isn't what it looks like."

"Really?! That's what you're going with?" Bass's confounded expression just seemed to anger him more. "I know that you can basically kill me with like your thumb if you wanted, but I swear to God, if you even think about saying that she tripped and fell and landed on your dick… I will punch you in the face."

At this point Charlie caught up to them and began to beg, "Aaron, please. You can't tell Miles."

"Are you kidding? Of course I can't tell Miles." They both seemed a bit confused. "I don't want to be on the same continent as the two of you when Miles finds out about this. And don't think he won't. I'm just sure as shit not going to be the one to tell him about it. I'm fairly certain that he has literally killed messengers before. That's not going to be me."

Bass and Charlie both seemed to relax a little. "And Miles probably isn't even the one you need to be worried about." He looked straight at Bass, "Rachel is going to kill you. First she will do unspeakable things to your junk, probably with some kind of dull rusty implement, and then she will kill you."

Bass looked like he was accepting the truth of the statement, which only tipped Charlie further into the state of anger that she'd been approaching. "No. No one is going to do a damn thing to him. This isn't his fault. There is no fault. We are two consenting adults…"

Aaron gave a joyless snort of laughter. "Not if you've lost your mind. Which has to be what happened in this case, because I can't imagine any other reason for you to be having secretive middle-of-the-night wagon sex with Sebastian Monroe." Aaron shook his head and grabbed her shoulders. "Do you even remember how all this started? Do you remember watching as Ben, your dad, died in the street after his men shot him?"

"Do you remember the Tower?" Charlie spat back at him and slapped his hands from her. "Because I remember you siding with my mom and leaving me to watch Nora die. Should I be pinning her death on you?"

Aaron actually stumbled back a step. Never in the decade that he'd known her had she ever spoken to him that way. Charlie softened, realizing what she'd just done. "Because I don't blame you. That's war. People die or don't die regardless of whether we want them to or not. The last year and a half, none of us came out of that the same. Now we're back in it all over again and we probably aren't going to get lucky enough to all make it out of this one too. Right now's what matters and right now this is my choice."

Aaron sighed. "Fine. I get it. Ok, I don't really get _this_," He gestured back and forth between them with his hand, "but you've made your point. Don't worry. I'm still not going to rat you out." Then he looked at Bass, "Miles and Rachel are still going to kill you."

Bass just shrugged.

Aaron turned and left the pair of them standing amongst the trees. When she turned and looked at Bass his face was pensive.

"How do you not hate me?" His voice was soft and honestly curious.

"Seriously? Not you too." She looked exasperated.

"What he said about Ben… you didn't answer him, just threw another situation back in his face. I want to know the answer."

Was he really asking her to talk about her feelings? They shouldn't matter. This wasn't some kind of relationship, it was just sex. Lots of really good sex. Right? "Can we not do this?" She knew the answer she would give him and knew how he would take it. She just wasn't ready for that yet.

"Sure." He looked a little broken as he pulled away from her and started walking back toward the camp.

She grumbled with herself internally for a moment. Part of the reason she'd given him half a chance and let him in was because he didn't keep secrets. It was only fair. She reached out to grab his arm. "Wait."

He turned and considered her for a moment before stepping back toward her.

As he approached, she felt the scarred flesh under her finger tips where she'd grabbed his forearm. She let her eyes settle on the self-inflicted wound for a while as her fingers traced its edges. When she looked up he was staring at damaged skin as well.

"Hiding your identity wasn't the only reason, was it?"

He ground his teeth and shook his head. After a deep sigh he spoke, "The things that happened... I've never even apologized."

"And I don't want you to."

He looked her in the eye, surprised and not understanding her meaning.

"Words mean nothing. Actions are what matter, and what you've done for me and for my family in the last six months… No one asked you to. Everyone's been all over you about the past every step of the way, and you still stayed. It doesn't cancel out the things from before, it doesn't work like that. But where we're at now," She rubbed her hand back and forth softly over the burn scar that obliterated his old tattoo, "no point in hating someone that doesn't exist anymore."

He pulled her into an embrace and nuzzled the top of her head.

And with that admission there could be no more pretending that whatever was going on between them was something meaningless born of boredom and opportunity. She'd just forgiven him, accepted him for who he is, and told him she trusts him. She might be the only one on the entire planet willing to grant him that, but she knew him. To him it was enough, it was everything. The only question left was, was that something she was ready for?

"I swear to God, Bass. You start crying and I will never be aroused by anything you do ever again." She said it, only partially teasing, against his chest.

His response was a deep guttural growl, immediately followed by hoisting her up to wrap her legs around his waist. They were in plain view of the others, and if any of them chose that moment to wake and look in their direction, Aaron wouldn't be the only one to know their secret. She gave him a look suggesting that they should take this somewhere a little more private. He just used the hand he had on her back to pull her into him and start placing kisses down her sternum. She grabbed a handful of his hair and forcibly pulled his head back to look up at her. That was one of the things she liked about when he would grab her up like this, it made her seem taller than him. She tilted her head down and kissed him hungrily. He responded in turn and after a few moments began ushering them off away from the group. Once they reached the supply wagon he dropped her to the ground and shuffled things around until he found a blanket. Then, with a firm grip on her wrist, he dragged her further from the camp.

"Don't we need to be back there on watch?" She asked, a sliver of guilt over shirking their responsibilities creeping out through the lust.

"No way Pillsbury's fallen asleep yet. He can handle things for an hour or two."

"An hour or two? You're impression of your own stamina is either really optimistic or delusional."

"Let's see what you have to say about that in a couple hours." He smirked at her.

He finally pulled her to a stop when they were about half a mile from the group, near a brook that was babbling loudly enough to overcast all but the loudest of their usual cries. As he spread the blanket out on the ground, Charlie began working her belt open.

"Don't."

She looked at him, confused. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her over to where he stood at the edge of the blanket.

"I want to take your clothes off." It was a scratchy whisper directed right into her ear. The words and their intent caused an instant clenching sensation between her thighs.

"Then get on with it already." She smiled back into his ear.

"Always in such a hurry." He said coyly as he knelt down in from of her and started untying the laces of her boot.

He stripped her, one agonizing piece of clothing at a time. First boots, then socks, then her belt. Next he'd stood and slowly peeled her shirt off over her head, followed by unclasping her bra and teasing it from her shoulders.

Charlie fought off the urge to squirm. He was tormenting her. The only touch of his hands on her body was the deft removal of clothes. There was no caressing, no lingering touches, or trailing kisses. But she could feel his eyes on her. For every newly revealed inch of skin that he didn't touch, his eyes traced over each molecule of flesh with an intensity that left it feeling flushed and ravaged in his wake.

His hands unfastened her jeans and slowly dragged them down over her hips, dropping again to his knees as he guided the denim to her ankles. She put a hand on his shoulder to stabilize herself as she raised each foot in turn to let him remove the article of clothing. Still on his knees before her, he looked up and locked her slate blue eyes with his own cornflower stare. Without looking away, he hooked a finger in the crotch of her worn cotton panties. The back of his finger barely grazed her arousal dampened folds before he pulled the fabric down to her knees. His gaze then shifted to extricating the garment from her legs. Once he had deposited the underwear atop the pile of clothes he had produced, he stood and took a step back from her.

Charlie wasn't one of those girls with a body image problem, but standing completely naked in front of those eyes that scorched over her body in the light of the waxing gibbus moon filtering through the tree limbs made her feel almost uncomfortably exposed. The look in his eyes was possessive and captivated. She didn't know what to do. Was she supposed to just stand there and keep letting him stare at her? Should she be putting on some kind of sexy peep show for him? She felt raw, and all she did know was that she wanted him to be naked with her.

"Your turn." She smiled in a way she hoped came across as seductive as she closed the gap between them.

Twigs and decaying leaves poked and clung to the soles of her feet as she stood in front of him and decided to follow his lead. She toyed with the hem of his shirt for a second before sliding it up over his torso. He graciously helped her by pulling it off over his head once she couldn't reach any higher. Stupid height difference. She wanted to run her hands over his chest, to trace the familiar lines and curves and explore the haphazard assortment of scars that marked his flesh, but she restrained her hands and let her eyes do the exploring. She wasn't sure that she could ever stare long enough to get her fill of the sight of him, but eventually she relented her visual cataloguing. Her hands drifted to his belt, and tugged him forward with her as she stepped backward onto the blanket.

"On your back." She commanded.

He gave a slight wry smile before obeying.

She straddled his knees, facing away from him, and slowly removed his boots and socks. Once they were tossed off of the blanket, she turned in place and unfastened his belt with limber fingers. Then she moved on to the button and zipper if his jeans before gently tugging the fabric down. He lifted his pelvis slightly to help her divest him of his pants, the movement only accentuating how obvious his desire for her was at that moment. She shimmied herself down his legs with the jeans and fully removed them. Now they were both naked. She couldn't remember the last time they'd had this luxury. It was probably that first time at her grandfather's house in Willoughby.

She sat at his feet and casually inspected the body of the naked male laid out before her. He was hard, cut lines of muscle accentuated with just enough soft light brown hair in all the appropriate places. Aside from the scars that popped up here and there along his flesh, time seemed to have been quite kind to his body. Even a detached objective analysis would conclude that he was an exemplary specimen of the human race, but she had other information that only made it all that much more enticing. She knew firsthand what it felt like for each of those well-defined muscle groups to tighten and work beneath her, on top of her, and against her. She knew the power and grace that occurred in the movements of those muscles during sex and battle when they moved in concert with single minded focus. Physically, he approached perfection.

Part of her mind wondered momentarily why it couldn't just be someone else inside that body. How much easier and less complicated it would all be if the simplicity of her attraction and attachment to the exterior could just be the same for the mind inside? Like if this were the body of some rebel fighter she had met with Miles and Nora on her way to Philadelphia. If he was just some regular guy that had helped her chase after her brother and fought at her family's side every step of the way. Perfect body, perfect person… it would just be so much easier. It would be so… boring.

She crawled up the blanket to lay next to him on her side. He turned to face her, letting his eyes continue to regard her with reverence and the slightly conflicted undertones that never fully seemed to disappear from them in situations like this. That was it. All the history between them, all the damage, how far they'd come… good or bad, it _meant something_ that she was sleeping with Sebastian Monroe.

The coolness in the damp spring night suddenly registered with her body, and she gave a small shiver. He broke the unspoken look-but-don't-touch detente to rub hands along her arms in an attempt to warm her. She moved in towards him, content to let the heat of his body temper her chill. As they pressed fully against each other, the only ironic word Charlie could think to use to describe the sensation that hummed through her was "electricity". Their mouths met and they finally allowed their hands to start exploring.

For the next half hour they touched and tasted every inch of each other. He'd started the game as a form of foreplay, but it somehow became much more than that. Maybe because it was so uncommon for them to have the seclusion to be able to take their time and be fully exposed, but the wanton stares and ghosting hands became something just as intimate as the act they were leading up to.

Fingertips traced over familiar and unfamiliar scars. The unknown ones were given explanations between measured breaths.

"Shrapnel from an IED under our Humvee in Baghdad."

"Tusk wound from the first time I tried to take down a wild boar with my bow when I was fourteen."

"Grazed by sniper fire carrying Miles off the front line in Trenton."

"Broke my arm falling off the swings before the blackout. Bone stabbed through the skin and everything."

"Assassination attempt after we took Baltimore."

"Bell tower collapsed on me last year."

She tried to down play it, but she could see the small flashes in his eyes whenever she revealed that one of her scars had resulted from a battle against the Militia the previous year. She didn't ask about the obvious bullet wound on his left upper abdomen. She'd been there in his home town when that shot had been fired. That wasn't something she felt either one of them would want brought up. Then there were the numerous wounds that they'd incurred together in the last few months. Those were well known, as they'd been the ones to caringly tend to them. Good, bad, and neutral, every scar had a story. Their bodies told the narrative of their history without them having to utter a word.

As his lips traced over the one particular scar on her wrist that would forever link her to the man before her, he gratuitously moaned out, "Mine."

That did her in. She could only imagine what seeing his mark stamped on her body did to him. Knowing that he'd had an instant attraction to her because of the way she defied and refused to submit to him, only to find that she had already forcibly been branded as his. It was a little twisted, but damn was it arousing. "Bass, I need you in me now."

He was only too happy to pin her on her back and oblige. They started out fast paced and needy, but after the initial sprint they slowed to a pace more suited for endurance. Over the next hour he worked her through two orgasms before finally emptying himself onto her stomach as she stroked him between their bodies.

"My apologies to your stamina. I stand corrected." She smiled as they cleaned off in the creek and dressed.

"A good partner makes all the difference." He smiled back.

"So we're partners now?" She asked semi-seriously.

"I suppose. We fight together, fuck together. What else would we call it?" He managed to make it sound casual, but she could tell he was forcing the attempt at apathy.

She mulled the word around in her head. She liked it. It denoted some level of attachment, but didn't go so far as to suggest something stupid like boyfriend or lover. "Partners works."

He draped an arm over her shoulder as they walked back toward their camp. "We're a regular Bonnie and Clyde."

"Didn't they both die in a bloody shootout?" Charlie questioned.

"There's six of us trying to take on the entire US government. How do you think this is going to end?" His tone was mostly honest, but held a touch of sadness.

"You go ahead and get yourself killed. I plan on making it through this." She nudged his ribs with her elbow and smiled, trying to avoid the depressing topic.

She barely heard him mutter toward the ground, "So long as I'm breathing you will."

They separated before getting within sight of the camp just in case someone had woken while they were gone. Aaron was sitting next to the fire and shot the pair a reproachful look as they entered the camp. He got up and walked toward his sleeping bag, making sure that his shoulder slammed into Bass's as he passed them.

"That doesn't happen again. I might not be a nark. But I am not going to be your accomplice in this." Aaron grumbled at Bass.

Bass nearly laughed. It was amusing to see Aaron finally standing up for himself.

…..

The next morning, Miles wondered aloud if the creek they'd crossed the previous day might contain any edible fish. Charlie grabbed her crossbow and offered to go find out nearly before the words were out of his mouth. Bass, of course, offered to go along as lookout. Thankfully Miles didn't see the violent eye roll Aaron gave as the pair set off.

They traced their path from the night before back to the creek, and then followed it upstream to where it broadened out and had a few eddies along the bank. Sure enough, some decent sized speckled trout were surfacing not far from the water's edge. Charlie handed Bass an arrow to try his hand at spear fishing, while she tied a piece of twine to an arrow and then to the stock of the bow. Her first shot missed, but she adjusted her aim based on the distortion of the water, and the next shot squarely hit a fish. It flailed a bit on the end of the line before slipping away, and Charlie rolled in the twine, bringing her catch back with it.

"Fishing with a cross bow seems like cheating." Bass muttered as he struck out unsuccessfully at another fish.

"How is there cheating? This isn't a competition. There are no winners and losers." Charlie corrected.

"Tell that to the fish." Bass stabbed the arrow at the water again and then jumped back in near shock. He'd snared one. He proudly held it up on the arrow for her to see. "I'm totally winning."

Charlie was about to comment that the fish she'd caught was larger, when a deafening crack echoed amongst them. She saw Bass drop the arrow and the fish, then reach for a spot on his right side amongst his ribs where a red splotch was blossoming on his shirt. She instantly spun and saw the Patriot patrol closing in on them. There were only three, but they were armed.

An untethered arrow was launching from Charlie's cross bow before she even realized she'd loaded it. It lodged dead center into the gunman's chest, leaving only two to take on. They were only feet away now, and with no chance to reload before they were on her, she swung the stock of the wooden cross bow at the head of the one approaching. He deflected it. When he aimed a right hook at her, she used the bow to block him, then jabbed it up against his throat. He staggered backward a step and she used the momentum to rush him backwards until he came against a tree. She used all her force to keep her bow choking him across his neck. She heard the other Patriot coming up behind her, cocking his gun to fire. She knew she needed to turn to deal with him, but the one she had pinned to the tree wasn't quite unconscious yet. She was about to yield and turn to face the attacker behind her, when she heard a knife unsheathe, followed by some grunting and then a body hitting the ground. Then her victim finally stopped struggling and became dead weight. She let him drop to the ground, pulled an arrow from her quiver, and stabbed it through his neck to ensure that he was down for good. Then she turned to see Bass standing behind her.

He looked at her blankly for a second, before collapsing forward into her arms.

She half dragged him a few feet away and laid him on his back to evaluate the bullet wound. She pulled up his shirt and realized that it was a small caliber and had entered his chest at the bottom right of his rib cage. There was a bit of blood, but not any fatal level of hemorrhage. She rolled him over to check his back. There was no exit wound.

"Come on Bass. Get up. You're not bleeding that bad. You're gonna be fine, but we gotta get back to camp." Charlie tried to encourage.

He nodded silently and tried to stand. He barely got vertical before collapsing against Charlie's shoulder.

"It's my lung. I think it's collapsed." He gasped.

"Just keep breathing." She instructed as she tried to propel both of them forward.

They stumbled along their earlier route, what was a fifteen minute walk before quickly stretching out into what felt like an eternity. The idea that she might lose him tore through her chest as painfully as a bullet would have. She couldn't stop to think about why that was, or it might cripple her. They were a little over half way when she heard sounds of people approaching at a run.

"Charlie?" It was Miles's voice calling out.

"Over here!" She yelled back, and quickly Miles and her mother came into view.

"We heard shots." Rachel announced.

"They got him in the chest." Charlie panted, still supporting most of Bass's weight.

"Dammit." Miles cursed and leaned it to look Bass in the eyes. He slapped his face a bit to rouse him. "Hey buddy. Don't quit on me now. You gotta stay awake." Then he slipped under Bass's arm that wasn't already over Charlie and helped hoist the man down the path.

"How bad is it?" Rachel asked.

"It's not bleeding much, but he said he thinks his lung collapsed and there's no exit wound." Charlie answered.

"Shit." Miles cursed and sped up their pace.

"I'll go ahead and help Dad get ready. We need to get that bullet out and put in some kind of chest tube."

"And we need to do it quickly. No telling when there might be more Patriots." Miles agreed.

Rachel nodded and ran ahead.

"Were there any survivors?" Miles asked.

"No." Charlie replied.

"Well at least we don't need to worry about them reporting back soon."

"Is he going to be okay?" Charlie asked as they dragged Bass, now unconscious down the trail as quickly as they could.

"I don't know, kid. This is bad."

They didn't speak again until they made it to the camp. Everyone was ready and waiting for them, and directed them to place him on the makeshift operating table that was the supply wagon floor. Miles pulled off his shirt as Gene leaned in and listened with an ear on his chest.

After a brief assessment Gene addressed his obviously distraught granddaughter. "The bullet tore into a lung. He's got a tension pneumothorax. Air from the damaged lung is leaking into the space between the lungs and chest wall and making them collapse. I've got to let the air out, get the bullet out, and rig some way to keep any air draining out of his chest until the lung heals so it won't collapse again."

Charlie nodded. "How can I help?"

"Get me a canteen or a water bottle filled two thirds full."

She didn't want to leave Bass' side, but she did as she was told. Before she could walk away, she saw her grandfather plunge a needle into Bass's chest and heard air hissing out. She arrived back with the water bottle just in time to see Gene cauterizing the edges of the wound with a fire reddened blade. Bass fought slightly against the searing heat, but didn't fully regain consciousness. Miles sat with Bass's head in his lap and holding down his shoulders just in case. Next Gene doused an instrument that resembled a long pair of tweezers in alcohol from Miles' flask. With a knowing nod to Miles, Dr. Porter stuck the instrument into the wound and began to fish around inside Bass's chest. The pain was too much and it brought Bass briefly back into a struggling and screaming consciousness.

"Keep him still. I've almost got it." Gene instructed.

Miles held his arms back and Rachel grabbed his legs. Charlie instantly darted to Miles's side and put a comforting hand on Bass's cheek. He looked over at her with pain and terror in his eyes.

"He's getting the bullet out. You're going to be fine, but you have to hold still." She whispered to him softly.

He nodded his head briefly and stopped struggling. He was still completely rigid, fighting down the torment of the instrument digging through his lung tissue.

"Got it!" Gene announced and retracted the forceps with a slightly flattened bullet grasped firmly between the ends.

Bass passed out again. However, this time his breathing was a bit more steady. Charlie felt her own breath come slightly easier after that. Gene quickly placed a few sutures to close the bullet tract and then readied a small scalpel blade and section of IV tubing. He poured some of the whiskey onto the skin a few inches about the stitched up bullet wound and made a small stab incision with the scalpel. Then he threaded a few inches of the IV tubing into the puncture and put the other end into the water bottle Charlie had provided. A steady stream of bubbles appeared in the water from the tubing each time Bass inhaled.

"Keep that above his chest at all times." He handed Charlie the water bottle. "The air will flow out through the tube, but the water will keep any air from flowing back in. It works like a one way valve." She nodded, accepting her new task as he placed a few sutures to hold the tubing in place where it entered his chest and make sure nothing leaked around it.

"Are we good to go?" Miles asked.

"I've done everything I can for him." Gene answered.

Miles extracted himself from the position of holding Bass's head and went to start hitching up the horses. They needed to be far away from this place like yesterday.

Rachel and Aaron drove the wagon, Charlie and Gene rode in back to care for Bass, and Miles rode alongside on horseback. Charlie and Bass's usual horses were tied to the back of the wagon to follow along. They'd been traveling for about an hour before Bass started to stir. Gene instantly shot a hand to the man's wrist to measure his pulse rate, as his eyes blinked open and he looked up at Charlie.

"Hey Bonnie." The words were raspy and seemed to take a lot of effort, but a small smile tugged at his lips after he got it out.

She let out a choked sob of laughter. "Hate to break it to you, Clyde, but it looks like we both made it through that firefight. Your metaphor's a little off."

"Like this ending better." He coughed out.

Gene watched the pair closely during the odd exchange and seemed to just begin to realize the depths of the concern his granddaughter held for his new patient. Charlie knew they were being watched and evaluated, but at that moment she didn't care.

"Kinda tired. Think I'll go back to sleep now." He muttered.

"You get some rest, partner." She tried to sound cheery for him.

He smiled and mumbled, "Partner." As he drifted back to sleep.

They stayed on the road throughout the day and only stopped briefly at night, using the wagon as a makeshift hospital room. Bass drifted in and out of consciousness over the next forty-eight hours, during which time Charlie never left his side. It was partially because she wanted to be there for him whenever he woke, and partially because she didn't entirely trust the others to be quite as concerned about his well-being, her mother in particular. She'd noticed the preponderance of sideways glances she'd gotten from her grandfather as she kept vigil over Bass the first day and realized that they were more than likely already outed. Maybe it was for the best. Miles was bound to find out sooner or later, and she supposed he was less likely to kill his friend while he was injured.

On the third day, Bass managed to stay conscious for longer periods of time, the pain was manageable, he could take a full deep breath, and very few (if any) bubbles were still appearing in the water bottle. That was also the day that Charlie noticed the others attempting to hold some kind of secretive meeting without her, which ended in Aaron suspiciously yelling "I know nothing!" and darting away. Espionage was not his strong suit. There was little doubt what the topic of that conversation had been.

On the fourth day, it was deemed time to pull the chest tube and they stopped to make camp early. Everyone lingered nearby, showing a small amount of support for their ally that had once been their arch nemesis. Charlie stayed steadfastly at his side and gave him a hand to squeeze as the sutures holding the tube in place were snipped and the tubing was pulled out of his chest. Gene warned him that the sensation would be more unnerving than painful, but as the six inches of tubing slid between lung and ribs and then out through the hole in his chest and a suture was placed to close the incision, he gently squeezed Charlie's hand as he focused on looking up at her face. Aaron made yet another indiscreet eye roll. Gene was optimistic that as long as he didn't get an infection his body couldn't control, he should make a full recovery. Though he needed to be on the wanted rebel fugitive version of bed rest for 2 weeks.

After the procedure was finished and the doctor's orders were given, Miles climbed into the back of the wagon and evicted Gene and Charlie. At first Charlie refused, having a good idea what the topic of conversation was bound to be, but the stare Miles gave her indicated that there was no room for compromise on the topic. She begrudgingly climbed out of the wagon and walked aimlessly around the night's campsite for a few minutes. She didn't hear any yelling or commotion coming from the wagon, which she supposed was a good thing. But then again, it didn't make much noise to slip a knife between someone's ribs.

Charlie sat down near the fire and tossed small twigs into it, needing something to busy her hands as her mind raced. She turned suspiciously as her mother sat down next to her.

Rachel swallowed, as if she were preparing for an important speech. "Charlie, I don't…"

"Mom." Charlie cut her off. "We're not really doing this, are we?"

"I could ask you the same question." She retorted snarkily.

"Congratulations. You all finally figured it out. Kudos to you and Miles on finally noticing something besides each other after four months."

Rachel looked equal parts affronted and ashamed. Good, Charlie thought. Then her face hardened and she came back with, "It's just… after everything… I don't understand why you're debasing yourself with him. You deserve so much better."

Charlie wasn't quite sure if there was a compliment wrapped up in there, or if it was all just meant as a dig at Bass. "I hate to break it to you, Mom, but since _somebody_ destroyed civilization as we know it, 'better' doesn't exist. I'm not going to meet some nice boy at college that wants to be a scientist or a business manager. I've actually lost count of the number of times in the last year that disgusting men have inappropriately propositioned me. And that's not even counting the ones that just straight out tried to rape me. Saying we all have some bad history with Sebastian Monroe is kind of the understatement of the century, but ever since the Tower, he's actually been there for me. He's gotten me out of more than a few stupid situations I've gotten myself into. He's on our side now, we fight well together, and he's a good lay. What else is there these days?"

"And that stupid bastard is willing to die protecting you." In all her ranting at her mother, Charlie hadn't heard Miles come up behind her. He dropped Bass's sword belt and a few assorted knives next to her. "Which is exactly what is going to happen if he does more than just lay there for the next two weeks. That means you need to stay out of trouble until then." He ruffled Charlie's hair.

Rachel shot him an angry glare.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not ok with this." Miles cautioned. "But I can't remember the last time a damned one of you actually listened to me, so I'm just going to save my breath."

Charlie stood and smiled at her uncle. She may not have his explicit approval, but this had gone far better than she ever imagined. She stepped forward to hug him, but he put a hand up to stop her. His voice was sad and deadly serious. "You have no idea how badly this is going to end. This isn't just something you play at. He breaks again, for any reason, and one of us is going to have to put a bullet in him. Just remember that."

Charlie felt her mouth go dry and nodded silently. Then Miles turned and walked away.

Rachel stood, collected the confiscated weapons, and looked pityingly at her daughter. "What I wanted to tell you, is that even though I don't approve of this choice, I'm still your mother, and I'm here for you if you need anything."

Again Charlie could do nothing but nod mutely. Her family sure did have a way of taking the fun right out of dysfunctional. Rachel turned and followed Miles.

Charlie just sat by the fire for a few more minutes. What Miles had said nagged at her. Was she just playing with Bass? She'd figured out that first day that what he truly wanted was a connection with someone. She'd probably underestimated the importance he placed on that attachment. He was like a lightning rod. He attracted danger and, without someone to ground him, he could prove perilous and fatal to everything around him. Miles had served in that stabilizing capacity for nearly four decades, and towards the end had failed miserably at it. The entire continent had felt the fallout. Would she fare any better? Did she want that kind of responsibility? Was it already too late to back out if she didn't?

Aaron sat down next to her and held out his flask. "That went better than expected." He said with a slight grin as she took a swig from it.

She barely had a chance to swallow before she laughed hard enough that it surely would have sent the alcohol out her nose. If nothing else, you could always count on Aaron for comic relief.

"Remember that one time when I was about thirteen and you caught Jack Simpson trying to pass me a note in school?" She asked with a smile.

Aaron pondered for a moment. "Wasn't it one of those very original 'Do you want to be my girlfriend, yes/no?' kind of notes?"

"Pretty much."

"What about it?"

"When did everything get so much more complicated?" Charlie sighed.

"I'm not trying to sound judgmental here, but it was probably about the time you dropped your pants for a former dictatorial war monger. Ok. Maybe I'm a little judgmental."

"Point taken." Charlie took another swig of liquor and handed the flask back.

Aaron took a draw from it before looking over at her. "You do realize why this is a little difficult for us all to grasp, right?"

"I still don't grasp all of it, and everyone keeps looking to me like I'm supposed to have all these answers for them. I just don't right now, and I don't know if I ever will."

"Well, I'm more than happy to just stay the hell out of it and indiscriminately provide you with alcohol as needed." Aaron tipped the flask toward her and then took another sip.

"Best. Teacher. Ever." She smiled at him and they both laughed.

Once their laughter died down she added, "Guess I should go check on the war monger, see how much damage Miles did when they were alone together."

Aaron smiled weakly and let her go.

She climbed up into the wagon to find him lying on his back, fingers laced behind his head, looking as if he was deeply contemplating the wood grain on the wagon's roof. She didn't see any fresh bruises, so it appeared that he and Miles had actually talked. She wondered if that had done more damage than physical blows would have. She sat next to him quietly.

"How you feeling?" She asked as if nothing had changed.

"Doesn't hurt so much when I breathe anymore."

"Good. And the other stuff?" She asked, knowing he would get the meaning.

He sighed. "What the hell are we doing?"

"Don't tell me you're suddenly starting to feel guilty about defiling Miles's niece that's half your age." She teased.

He cocked his head to the side and gave her a look that said he was not amused.

"Come on Monroe. Guilt is for people with souls." She let the sarcastic words sink in for a minute, hoping he'd get the point. She was implying that he had one. "Whatever Miles said, this isn't wrong. It shouldn't work, but it does. And I'm not going anywhere."

He used a good amount of effort to prop himself into a sitting position, braced with a hand on the floor behind him. Looking straight in her eyes, he asked, "Charlotte, do you trust me?"

"With my life." She answered without hesitation, because she did. That much she knew for sure.

He looked a little surprised. "Don't even need a second to think about it?" He smiled as he said it.

"Nope." She smiled back. "Ask me how I feel about this… whatever it is between us, and I don't know what I'd tell you. But I do trust you, and that seems like a pretty good place to start."

He nodded in quiet acceptance.

"You gonna kiss me now or what?" Charlie said with a smirk.

He put the hand that wasn't holding him up on her cheek and leaned into her. It was short but meaningful, their tongues barely meeting before he needed to break to breathe. As he dropped down to lay flat on his back again, she followed. She curled around his left side with her head on his shoulder and snaked her arm around his waist. With the stress over defining their relationship finally abated and daylight fading into the golden hues of dusk, the dull metronomic thud of his heart beat reverberating under her ear put her deeply at ease.

She blinked her eyes open to find that darkness had descended upon the camp and she'd obviously been out for a couple of hours. She was still wrapped around Bass, who was also sound asleep, his face buried in her hair at the top of her head. Someone had draped a blanket over them and left a plate of food by her side. Sitting up and casting a quick glance around the campsite showed her uncle to be the only one awake. Miles sat on watch near the fire with his back to them, running a whetting stone over his blade. Bass squirmed in his sleep, the loss of contact with her body and the draft she was allowing under the blanket unsettling him. Charlie curled back against him and he stilled. She'd thank Miles for the food and blanket in the morning.


	5. Extinction

Needs - Extinction

Two weeks later, Bass was discharged from his hospital bed. Basically Gene had given him a clean bill of health, removed his stitches, and told him that they needed the space in the wagon for supplies again. He was out on his ass.

He'd been allowed to get up and walk around for five to ten minutes a day after the first week, but the strict activity restrictions had made him nearly stir crazy and he felt weak and out of shape. It would be a while again before he was back to fighting shape

They'd stopped early for the day, having come across an abandoned plantation house as they trekked through what had probably once been northern Mississippi. The horses had earned a rest after weeks on the run, and spring thunder storms were looming on the horizon. If they were going to take a break for a few days, they would be stupid to pass up doing so somewhere with a roof over their heads and a stable for the horses.

Bass and Charlie had helped bring in the supplies, but as the others began prepping the house for occupation, Charlie snuck out the back door, dragging Bass by the wrist. She stopped at the edge of a pond a small ways away from the house. It was crystal clear and must have been spring fed. Charlie smiled at Bass as she quickly removed her shoes, top, and jeans.

"I know you grandfather said I'd need to work on my cardio, but I don't think this is what he had in mind." He smirked at her.

She rolled her eyes at him as he stepped towards her, then quickly turned, ran a few steps, and launched herself off a small rock outcropping into the pond. Once she surfaced, she splashed water at him. He quickly kicked off his shoes and peeled off his shirt, jogged into the pond until he was about waist deep, and then dove under the water. Charlie kept waiting for him to reappear. Instead she felt herself quickly pulled under the water. She thrashed initially at the shock, but calmed as Bass encircled her in his arms and then dragged her back up to the surface. He was just able to stand and keep his head above water, but she had to tread water to keep herself afloat. He pulled her to him, and she wrapped her legs around him.

"Is this ok?" She asked, concerned that he might be over exerting himself.

"I'm fine Charlotte."

"Not like you'd tell me if you weren't." She'd noticed that he tried to hide his pain from her and everyone else during his recovery. The stoic ass was lucky he didn't make anything worse.

"Because I don't need to say it. You read me like a damned open book."

"My how the tables have turned." She smiled at him before shoving his head under the water. He released his hold on her and she swam closer to shore, where she could stand on her own.

He followed her, seemingly entranced by the way the waterline lapped at the top of her breasts where she stood. "So what inspired this idea for an afternoon swim?"

His overgrown curls were plastered down in wet clumps on his forehead, leaving rivulets of water dripping down his face and the exposed portion of his chest. She couldn't resist pulling him up against her. Water rippled around them, and she could feel his arousal bulging at the front of his jeans and pressing into her. Suddenly it was like she was the one having trouble breathing.

"Two weeks in that wagon and you were starting to smell." She got out.

"So this is purely for hygiene?" He said disbelievingly as he tucked a wet lock of her back behind her ear.

"Maybe." She groaned as he reached around her and unclasped her bra.

"Maybe not." He smirked as he pulled the garment off her and tossed it ashore.

He'd slowly backed them a few steps toward shore and the water level now left her breasts entirely exposed. Between her arousal and the sensation of the charged pre-storm air gusting over wet flesh, Charlie wasn't sure if her nipples had ever been harder in her life. Bass seemed to notice as well. He ran a palm firmly over her left breast as he cupped the right in his other hand. It shot powerful need straight through her body to between her thighs. Her hands instantly shot to his zipper as he flicked, pinched, rolled, and caressed her nipples between his fingers in turn. She whimpered and moaned as he worked her, kissing her collarbone but never fully removing his gaze from where he played with her breasts. If it wasn't for the buoyancy of the water supporting some of her weight, Charlie's legs would never have been able to hold her upright through this.

As she worked his pants off, he stopped to bend forward and pull them the rest of the way off. He rested his forehead against her breastbone and panted for a moment as he got the jeans from around his ankles. Charlie's arousal instantly morphed to concern.

"Are you ok? Do you need to stop?"

"What I need… right now… is you." He said between breaths. "More than air... more than anything else on this forsaken planet… I just fucking need you." He lifted his gaze to meet her eyes.

She could read him like a book, and he meant every word he'd just said. She slammed her mouth against his and he pulled her to him. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he moved them further towards the shore. His erection strained against the scant layer of fabric covering her, and she dropped her hand between them, pulled the underwear to the side, and let him slide home into her. The sensation was different with everything emerged in water, but he still let out a growl and faltered slightly in his advance through the shallow water as she purposefully clenched her muscles around him. He stopped when the water level splashed right at the height where he penetrated her and thrust into her the best he could a few times. Her head flew back, and it was almost enough of a sudden shift in balance to topple him forward. He took a few more steps before pulling out of her and forcing her back to standing. He guided her back a few more steps and then dropped to his knees, pulling her down with him. When he slowly laid her back against the shore the waterline barely lapped at the base of her skull, but the slope of the bank left her pelvis still mostly submerged.

He pulled her underwear off and haphazardly threw them toward where the rest of their clothing was scattered. Then he kneeled between her thighs and lifted her legs to wrap them back around his hips. With her in place, he stretched out on top of her and plunged into her once more as a bolt of lightning streaked through the sky near the far off horizon and a boom of thunder echoed in the air. After a kiss and some needy moaning of each other's names, Bass turned his attention back to her rock hard nipples jutting out above the water. This time he used his mouth, and Charlie writhed beneath him.

She let him pick the positions and pace to avoid unintentionally hurting or overexerting him while he was still not fully recovered. But honestly she doubted that he was going to let something as insignificant as crippling pain or difficulty breathing stop him from having her body whichever way he wanted.

While they'd been allowed unprecedented physical closeness since their secret had come out, doctor's orders had kept them from doing anything more than platonic cuddling. Two weeks had felt like an eternity to be apart after all the emotional turmoil they'd been through. Only now, with him thrusting inside of her and their mouths worshiping and tormenting each other's bodies did she finally feel that she could believe that everything would be alright. Another clap of thunder sounded, slightly closer this time.

"Don't you ever almost die again." She growled at him as she felt herself quickly nearing her breaking point.

"Why's that?" He asked absent mindedly, obviously getting close himself.

"Because I fucking need you too." It slipped out just as she came around him.

"Fuck, Charlotte…" It seemed like he'd wanted to say more, but as her muscles contracted again, he hastily pulled out of her and rolled onto his back, his own orgasm taking him simultaneously and spilling out across his abdomen.

They both just laid next to each other for a moment, chests heaving, until Charlie reached her hand over and found his. They intertwined their fingers and remained side by side watching the storm roll in towards them. After a few minutes and once he'd caught his breath, Bass splashed some water across his chest to clean himself up, then rolled over to stare questioningly at her.

She gave him a sideways glance and smiled. "Yeah. You heard me."

"Just making sure." He quirked his eyebrows and then basically pounced on top of her.

His lips found hers as they rolled in the shallow water. It amazed her that just those few little words could bring him so much enthusiasm, and how easily his elation spread to her. Soon they were both grinning so widely that it actually made it difficult to continue their kiss. Which only made them start laughing at themselves. It felt good to smile and laugh. Charlie could scarcely recall the last time she'd felt this relaxed. Damn, this man affected her. They would have both been content to spend the remainder of the afternoon laughing, splashing, and likely going another round or two, but a lightning strike hit in the nearby cotton field and the first large drops of rain began to plunk down and ripple the pond's surface around them.

They scrambled out of the water and quickly began pulling their wet clothes back on. Once dressed, they sprinted together back toward the house as thunder and lightning became far too close for comfort. The down pour had become torrential by the time they reached the safety of the covered wrap around porch. They both stood by the banister and watched the storm roll in across the expansive cotton fields. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her midsection, pulling her back flush against him. He rested his cheek against the top of her head and they both just continued to watch the waves of driving rain and sporadic lightning strikes advance toward the house. The storm was massive and awe inspiring with its raw natural power. It reminded Charlie of the man holding her – a force of nature that managed to be both dangerous and mesmerizingly beautiful at the same time. Damn, she was starting to get sentimental.

They'd been standing on the porch for a few minutes when the dilapidated screen door opened with a screech of its rusted spring. They both turned their heads and were surprised to see Rachel walk out onto the porch holding two dry towels. Charlie's first instinctual reaction was to pull away from Bass, the notion that they weren't hiding their relationship anymore having not yet fully cemented itself in place in her mind. But Bass tightened his grip around her, a silent indication that if they were really going to do this, it was time to take a stand.

Rachel stepped up next to them and stared out at the storm as well. Without turning to look at them, she extended the towels. "You just had half a lung torn to shreds. Catching pneumonia won't do you any favors."

Charlie and Bass each reached over and took the towels from her hand. Bass nodded curtly, not even trying to make eye contact with her, and Charlie muttered, "Thanks Mom."

Bass wrapped the towel around his shoulders before returning his arms to where they'd been wrapped around Charlie. She just clutched her towel to her chest, Bass's body doing a more than ample job of keeping her warm. Rachel just stood there silently next to them for a few long minutes before wordlessly turning and reentering the house.

Charlie had no idea how to classify that interaction. She really knew very little about her mother, even less about what had happened during her time in Philadelphia. No. She realized that in this situation she needed to be honest about it. She didn't know what had happened during her mother's time as a prisoner of the man that was currently holding her. She wasn't going to ask, because she knew he'd tell her and she wasn't sure she wanted to know. She'd pondered the question during her time stalking him to New Vegas. It was hard to imagine that her mother's captivity could have been that bad, as she'd been more than able to forgive Miles. Yet there were four long years after Miles had left the Republic, when she had remained. Charlie had seen the man behind her years later in a state she could only describe as completely unhinged. It was difficult to imagine what he would have been like shortly after Miles's betrayal. Rachel had been a tangible link to Miles, and had undoubtedly suffered for that. Charlie just wasn't sure what that had meant. There was always so much hatred in her mother's eyes when she looked at Bass. The fact that Miles allowed him in Rachel's presence suggested that there were at least a few lines that he'd not crossed, or Charlie worried that perhaps there were a few things Rachel had not divulged.

"She has every right to hate me." He admitted quietly, accurately reading the tension that had crept into Charlie's posture.

She didn't turn to face him, wasn't sure that she could, as she asked, "Did you…" She trailed off, unable to finish. How do you ask the man you're sleeping with if he raped your mother?

"No." He replied firmly, and Charlie released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Then he spun her in his arms and he moved his hands to her shoulders. Looking her straight in the eyes, he admitted. "I never personally laid a hand on her. But I gave the orders."

Charlie swallowed hard. The orders to what? To beat her mother, torture her, sexually assault her? She didn't want to know. When she looked, slightly horrified, into his eyes, she realized that he wanted her to ask. He wanted to tell her everything, to bear his soul to her and admit to every wretched thing he'd done. As if only she could grant him absolution.

She couldn't handle it. "I'm going to go get changed." She announced hastily and pulled out of his hold. As she darted into the house and down the hall to where she'd put her stuff earlier, she fought back tears. He didn't try to follow.

After changing into dry clothes, Charlie tried to calm herself down, but the tears started and wouldn't abate. What had she been thinking? She really was _that_ stupid. She'd known. The whole time she'd known exactly who he was, but had somehow managed to convince herself that it didn't matter. She'd compartmentalized every aspect of him until she could deal with just the pieces she wanted to. God, she'd been a fool. A selfish fool. Maybe part of her had enjoyed hurting her mother, but when the cold hard truth was shoved in her face, she wasn't that person. She couldn't be that cruel to her family. What was it like to watch the man that ordered your torture, at best, for nearly a decade spooning with your daughter? There was just too much blood, too much of her family's blood, on his hands to ever really be clean, no matter how much she wished it. It took seeing it right in front of her to really understand it.

Charlie pawed at her eyes, dislodging the tears threatening to emerge and wiping away the tracks that ran down her cheeks. She had some apologizing to do. She left her room and numbly trod a few doors down the hall to the bedroom that Miles and Rachel were sharing. She knocked on the door. Miles partially opened it, Rachel sitting on the corner of the bed with a book in her hands. Seeing the state she was in, Miles swung the door open wide to allow her access. He seemed a little surprised when she brushed past him and went straight to her mom. Rachel stood and embraced her daughter.

"I'm so sorry." Charlie gasped out between sobs that she couldn't hold back.

Rachel stroked her hair as she held her and made soft quieting noises. Out of the corner of her eye, Charlie saw Miles reach for his pack. He removed a pistol, checked the chambers, and then laid it on top of the dresser by the door before exiting the room. She heard the screen door squeal open and slam shut a few seconds later.

Miles didn't return and Rachel and Charlie didn't leave the bedroom until Aaron and Gene had dinner almost ready to serve. They'd both been quick enough to determine that something had transpired, and that it probably wasn't good. Bass entered the house with Miles, but instead of joining the rest in the kitchen, he went straight upstairs. The five of them ate and cleaned in relative silence, before everyone retired to their rooms.

The storm had continued to rage outside well into the night. Wind howled outside as the inky blackness was intermittently punctuated with blinding flashes of lightning and claps of thunder that shook the old house on its foundation. As Charlie reached for the doorknob, a particularly violent boom rattled her to the bone and she retracted her hand, sure that it was some kind of sign. Then she took a few deep breaths, steeled herself, and pushed the door open. She stepped into the pitch black upstairs bedroom and closed the door behind her. It took her a moment for hers eyes to begin to adjust to the darkness. Then she crossed the small room in a few strides and gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. She knew by his breathing that he wasn't asleep, but he made no move to acknowledge her presence.

"Bass?" She whispered as she reached toward his shoulder. Then there was a flash of lightning and suddenly he was sitting up in front of her, her wrist caught in his almost painfully tight grip.

"Charlotte, you should go."

"But I…"

"You wanted to see for yourself if Miles was right? See if I've turned into some rabid dog that needs to be put down?" He dropped her wrist and laid back down on the bed, his blanket bunched around his waist leaving his bare chest exposed. "Don't worry. I'm fine. I saw this coming from the beginning." His voice sounded cold and detached.

"Well I didn't." The bleak words slipped quietly from her mouth.

She couldn't be sure in the darkness, but she thought she saw his breath hitch.

"I'll make it easy on everybody. Miles told me where my kid is. I'll be gone in the morning as soon as the storm breaks."

Charlie felt her chest clench. He was leaving. She wasn't sure what she had expected to happen. This was… logical. But it still hurt. She couldn't breathe.

Suddenly he was sitting up again, pulling her to him. With his arms wrapped around her, he murmured, "This isn't your fault. None of this is on you." Sensing that her panic had quelled, he released her. "These are my demons coming home to roost."

Her voice sounded a little desperate as she looked at him, "But you have changed. You deserve…"

"I deserve so much less than what you've already given me. I'm not going to take any more from your family."

So it was official. They, whatever "they" had been, were over. It was mutually agreed upon and amicable, and he would be gone in the morning. What more could she ask for?

Why did it still hurt?

He dropped his forehead to hers and put his hand softly on the back of her neck. He held her that way for a long moment as he seemed to search for something to say and failed. With a sigh, he released her and laid back down, rolling so that his back was towards her.

"Goodbye Charlotte."

She stood and walked toward the door. Lightning illuminated the room as she looked back at him one more time. She changed her mind.

Charlie quickly discarded the cotton pants and underwear she'd been wearing and pulled the oversized t shirt off over her head. She tip toed back over to the bed, lifted the edge of the covers, and climbed under them with him. As she suspected, he was naked as well.

"Charlie, what are you…" He turned to face her, shock evident in his features

"I'm saying goodbye to the Sebastian Monroe I've known these last few months." She ran a hand down his cheek and along his jawline before leaning in to kiss him.

He hesitated at first before giving in and kissing her back. They held each other tightly, pulled flush against one another from shoulder to toe as they continued the needy kiss. Everything between them, as hard as they tried, just felt desperate and sad. It permeated everything, the little whimper she made when he buried himself in her, the look in his eyes as he pushed her hair back out of her face, the pace of their movements, the unwillingness to move out of the missionary position they'd started in, all of it. Thunder and lightning continued to clash outside as they clung to each other. Neither had an easy time getting to their climax, perhaps because they both knew that once it happened, it would be over, but eventually Charlie felt a tightness and immediacy pooling in her as Bass seemed to be wearing himself out. The noises they were making were rather pathetic, like a pair of scared bleating fawns, as they both finally found their release together. Bass had ended up so reluctant to finish that he wasn't sure he pulled out entirely in time. Neither seemed to care as he collapsed down on top of her, a pool of ejaculate smearing between their bellies. He buried his face into the crook of her neck, and she wrapped her arms tightly around him.

It was by no means the grand finale to their exquisite sexual relationship that either had anticipated, but it did provide a certain sense of closure and finality. In each other's arms, with the sounds of the storm still raging outside, they both fell asleep quickly.

Charlie shifted in the bed and rubbed her eyes. The storm had broken and passed, and a beautiful spring morning was filtering in through the unshaded window. She rolled over and reality hit her like a wave of vertigo. It was late morning and she was alone in the bed. She looked frantically around the room and found the only remaining objects were her clothes sitting neatly folded on top of the night stand.

He was gone.


	6. Evolution

Needs - Evolution

Bass came to chained in some kind of cage. Great. This again. His jaw was sore, but as he moved it around, he confirmed that it was neither broken nor dislocated. The same couldn't be said for his left shoulder. It had been wrenched clear out of its socket. He had no great control over the limb, but he still had feeling in the hand and his right side was at full strength. These fuckers had no idea what a mistake they'd made leaving him his dominant sword arm. They'll learn soon enough. Right knee was swollen, but when he pressed the leg outstretched against the side of the cage, it seemed like it would still hold weight just fine. Left side was good as new and everything in between was still present and accounted for. He even still had his clothes. This was not the worst situation he'd ever woken up to by far.

He evaluated his surroundings and found that his enclosure was one in a short row of five otherwise unoccupied cages. Something in his mind nagged him that this was important, but he brushed it off. He was still a bit too concussed to remember exactly how he had arrived in his current predicament, but he'd sure as hell find himself a way out of it soon enough.

Torches lined the walls illuminating the space, allowing him to evaluate the whole space. The cages were four foot cubes anchored atop a slatted metal grate over a hollow in the floor inside some kind of ventilated warehouse. He thought hog crates maybe? Either way, not enough room to stand. His wrists were in actual metal manacles welded to the steel crossbeam at the top of the cage. He wondered briefly if the cuffs were salvaged from a pirate museum or if someone repurposed some S and M gear. Either way, they were fairly legit restraints. Getting his hands free would probably be the toughest part. There was some debris littering the cage bottoms and the aisle way that he could probably pick a lock with when the time came. From there his escape should be cake. They hadn't even bothered to leave a guard on him. It was a good sign that they probably had no idea who he was. He pondered what they were all so busy doing that they left a fresh hostage alone. That terrified period when they first regain consciousness is always the best for extracting information. He should know. He'd been on the other side of this scenario more than enough times.

That's when he heard it. The strangled cry coming from beyond the closed door at the far end of the hall that changed everything. Charlie. They _were_ actively working over a fresh prisoner, it just wasn't him.

Everything came back to him.

_Miles had told him where to find his son, like it was some sort of consolation prize for everything falling apart with his niece. It wasn't a "get the fuck out" as much as it had been a chance for him to find something else to care about and not go off the deep end like he usually did when he lost someone. Miles knew him a little too well. He appreciated the concern, but also understood that when it came down to Charlie and Rachel, Miles wasn't about to let him hang around to do any more damage. An amicable departure to go find his son was the best case scenario for everyone involved._

_Thus he'd ridden toward Mexico for two and a half days before giving up. Who was he kidding? His son was a grown ass man. He had nothing to offer anyone except pain and a legacy of horror so astounding that even Charlie couldn't really forgive him. The most paternal thing he could do was to not force his particular brand of suffering on an innocent young man. _

_He'd turned his horse back in exactly the same direction that he'd come. He'd catch up in a couple days. If they wouldn't take him back, which they had every right not to, then he'd just stay nearby and help out when he could. He knew it was over with Charlie, but that didn't mean he couldn't still watch out for her._

_He'd been gone just less than a week when he'd seen the first signs of trouble. He knew which way the Mathesons and friends were travelling, and he couldn't help but notice that a moderately sized group seemed to be going in the same direction as well. They were being followed._

_The next day he'd caught sight of a set of tracks that looked like Charlie's. They were heading straight toward the bandits' camp. She'd probably come across their tracks and figured she'd go investigate. She had no idea that she was the one being stalked._

_That evening, as he approached, he heard her scream as a pack of them set on her. She fought off the first few valiantly, but they just kept coming and she was outnumbered more than ten to one. He dove into the fray as quickly as he could get to her, but she'd already been taken down. These guys were brutal and efficient, and their numbers just kept increasing. Even he wouldn't be able to take them all out. He wasn't sure if she was even conscious anymore as they surrounded them both and started kicking her on the ground. He slashed his way to her side and fought them off the best he could. She seemed to be clinging onto the last bit of consciousness and balked at the sight of his appearance. They were both going to be overrun soon, but so help him, the last thing she would see was going to be him fighting for her, however useless it may be._

That was the last thing he remembered before waking up in the cage. Now all he could think about was getting to her. He started fighting the restraints. The weld was solid and the bracelets were tight enough that even breaking his thumbs wouldn't buy him enough extra space to pull free of them. He pulled and thrashed with everything that he had, hoping that something, either metal or bone would give way enough to liberate him. Nothing gave, though he did manage to reset his shoulder by dumb luck. He heard Charlie scream out again. Unable to break free, he screamed to see if he could turn their attention onto him. "Hey!" He yelled at the top of his lungs. "Get out here and pick on someone your own size." He rattled the cage and his cuffs as loudly as he could.

It was a few tense moments before the door opened and three large men stepped through. The largest, a man that looked unfortunately like a giant troll, was dragging Charlie's limp and unconscious (hopefully) form by her hair.

"Don't worry. You'll get your turn." The sleaziest looking of the degenerates mocked him as he unlocked the cage and the bigger man threw Charlie's lifeless body in on top of his legs. "We're just gonna clean the place up a bit before we get to you. There's blood all over, and we just can't have that if we're entertaining royalty. Isn't that right President Monroe?"

Shit. They did know who he was. That was going to make this worse for both of them. He fought against his restraints the best he could without displacing Charlie's unconscious form from his lap. He could feel her even breathing hitch against the inside of his thigh. She probably wouldn't be out long, if she was even unconscious at all. "You do realize a president isn't a royal, right?" He sneered. "Or are you as stupid as you look?"

The man leaned into the cramped cage and punched Bass in the jaw again, but Bass struck out with a booted foot and caught the man in the solar plexus. As he collapsed in on himself, Bass landed another kick to the man's face, sending a splash of blood flying from his nose.

"Why you son of a…" Sleazy whistled around his broken nose and began choking Bass.

That was when Bass felt Charlie stir against his groin. God, he wished for the simpler days when that would have meant something entirely different, but now he just hoped she wasn't too concussed to figure out his play before Sleazy choked him to death. Bass landed another kick to the man's thigh, and while he didn't hear the femur snap, there was probably enough force behind it to cause a good limp for a few days. A knee to the groin had Sleazy rolling to the side and losing his grip on Bass's neck. He sucked in a gulp of oxygen as the third man (neither Sleazy nor the Ogre) dragged Sleazy out of the confined space and locked the cage door. Bass gave a feral smile at the men, suggesting that he could happily go on all day. He'd just beaten their leader damn near unconscious with both his hands chained up in a cage. Whoever they were, they'd learn not to fuck with Sebastian Monroe alright.

Ogre kicked the cage violently then followed as Third Guy helped Sleazy limp back to their interrogation room. Charlie was laying deathly still across his lap in nearly the same position as when she'd been discarded there.

"They're gone." He whispered.

Two bright blue eyes, one of which looked a little bloodshot, opened to look up at him from his lap. A smile crossed her lips and her left hand shifted slightly to her back pocket, from where she produced Sleazy's keys that she had pick pocketed while his attention had been on Bass.

"That's my girl." He smiled down at her. He'd said it without even thinking, and both of their faces dropped. "I'm sorry… I…"

"Don't worry about it." She said blankly as she tentatively sat up and started to unlock the manacles around his wrists.

The restraints popped open with a slight clink and Bass quickly dropped his arms. He rubbed his raw and bloodied wrists before rolling and prodding at his left shoulder.

"You ok?" She asked clinically.

"They dislocated it, but I got it back in. Hopefully it won't be too big a problem."

She nodded tersely at him before reaching around to unlock the cage door. She probably didn't realize that in the close confines of the cage meant for a single sow, she was laid across him, ass nearly in his face, and balancing on her other hand that was in between his thighs. As the cage door sprung open, he reminded himself that it was his own damn fault that things had fallen apart between them. He'd been an epically monumental bastard, and while having her just out of reach was torturous, it was still far less than he deserved in terms of punishment.

They crawled out into the aisle way, and both found it a little difficult to stand. Her left hip was sore and his puffy knee was giving him a little more trouble than he expected. She shifted under his right arm and wrapped her arm around his waist. Together they helped each other limp toward the exit door at the far end of the building from where the three stooges had disappeared. He paused when they got to the door and looked curiously at an old metal pale and a crowbar lying discarded on the floor.

"Are you ok?" He asked her seriously.

"I'm fine."

"They didn't…"

"They roughed me up a bit. That's all." She reached for the door knob, when he turned suddenly.

"Yeah. That's still not gonna fly." He picked up the pale and the crowbar and walked back down the length of the aisle, the pain in his knee barely noticeable anymore through his rage.

He got to the interrogation room door and kicked it in. The three cockroaches inside were understandably shocked. Sleazy and Third Guy looked like they were about to piss themselves as Ogre came at him. He swung the metal pail upward, crashing it into the big man's jaw. In the momentary confusion he took out his left shin with the crowbar. As the titan fell, Bass cracked him over the back of the head with the crowbar and then kicked his nose into his cranium, just to make sure. Then he tossed the metal pail at Sleazy, who, like every clichéd idiot villain ever, actually stopped to catch it. Bass drove the straight end of the crowbar into his unprotected chest. He gave it a good quarter turn before ripping it back out and watching the man drop dead. Third Guy was crying in the corner, begging for his life as Bass stalked toward him.

"The lady is a friend of mine. I don't have many of those left, so it bothers me when people hurt them." Bass growled.

"I'm sorry… I… I'm…"

Bass stopped the whining by reaching out and snapping the man's neck with a single twist. He let that body drop to the ground too, and stepped over the others littering the floor to the area where they'd planned to interrogate him. There were a few crude implements laid out. Bass quickly slid the machete into his belt and lifted two smaller knives.

He limped back to where Charlie stood by the exit, gawking at him.

"Was that really necessary?" She questioned.

"Yes." He answered simply as he handed her one of the pilfered knives.

She slid it into her boot and shook her head at him. She was about to open the door again, when she turned and rubbed a hand across his cheek.

"Blood splatter." She explained as she wiped it off on her jeans.

"Gonna be more where that came from." He whispered as they ducked out of the building. Where her hand had traced across his face tingled and burned with longing. Fuck, he missed her far more than he had any right to.

It was dark outside, and they carefully crept along the side of the building to get a feel for the layout of the camp. The hills and topography were all off. They had obviously been transported quite a ways from where they were captured.

"Any idea where we are?" He asked in a quiet whisper.

"Inside their camp." She said snarkily.

"That's helpful. Thanks." He rolled his eyes at her. It was that long ride to Willoughby all over again. "I was knocked out for the whole transport. Did you see anything?"

"Yeah. They showed me a map while we had tea and cookies."

He glared at her.

"I was out the whole time too." She admitted.

"When they were… interrogating you, what did they want to know?" He asked.

"Why does it matter?"

"If we know what they want it might help us know where we are, where to go."

"It won't." She answered steadily.

"I won't know that until you tell me." He grated through his teeth.

"It's not going to help." She insisted.

He growled in frustration. "Look. I get that you hate me again, but just fucking answer my question so I can get us both out of here."

"You. Ok? They knew who you were and wanted to know why you were fighting for me. They were trying to find out if I would be valuable because I knew you."

His heart faltered and he felt his palms get clammy as his grip tightened around the handle of the machete. She'd taken a beating because of him. Bile churned in his stomach and he really wanted to decapitate something. Then suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder.

"Calm down. If it hadn't been for you, they would have just killed me on the spot. You fighting for me made me interesting, and that's what kept me alive."

He felt air cooling his lungs and realized that he'd started breathing again. "What'd you tell them?"

She withdrew the hand from his shoulder. "I didn't tell them anything. They had such a hard on for you, I certainly wasn't about to tell them who I am and give away the fact that Miles Matheson is camped somewhere just up the road."

"Speaking of dear old Uncle Miles… Where the hell's the cavalry?" Bass grumbled.

"He wasn't exactly on board with the idea of scoping out the bandit's camp."

Bass sighed. "So you snuck off without telling anyone."

She gave him a very unapologetic look. "I was short my usual accomplice, so yeah. I went by myself."

Good. Twist the knife a little more. He'd gone a whole four or five seconds there without remembering what a horrific piece of shit he was.

"What are the chances they've even realized you're missing by this point?" He groaned.

"Almost certain. But we were a solid half day's ride from where they took us. We probably shouldn't expect any reinforcements for at least another twelve to twenty-four hours."

"Great." Bass grumbled. "Guess we're on our own."

"Because that's never happened before." She rolled her eyes at him.

Did she not get that it was different this time? Yeah, they've gone two on twelve before and still come out on top, but not this time. They're both still tense around each other, and with her so obviously spiteful, he can't fully trust her. Those things they used to do, where she would instinctively cover that little blind spot behind his left shoulder each time he swung a sword backhand at an opponent, how she knew just where to put her feet between his so they wouldn't trip each other up, or the way it felt to not have to worry about your six because you trusted the person behind you, they were over. He hadn't had that since Miles, and now that it was just gone, he missed it almost as much as he missed burying his cock in her. Yup. That was a thought that he did not need right now. Hand to hand combat with an erection never went well.

Bass tried to focus on their surroundings. He just needed some kind of clue as to the best direction to head if they could get out of here. These bandits had already proven to be at least decent trackers. The two of them alone in this type of terrain wouldn't make it two days. They'd need to meet back up with her family or find some kind of civilization fast. Then he heard a group of people enter the swine barn from the other side of the building. He had about thirty seconds before their jail break would become common knowledge. No more time for plans. They could go now and figure out the rest on the fly.

"C'mon." He reached back and grabbed her wrist, tugging her along with him as he darted toward the small shed nearby.

She quickly shook off his grip when they reached the shed. Then she peeked around the corner and took lead running toward the next closest building to the camp's periphery. He followed, scanning behind them the entire time. They both pulled up short against the wall of another small outbuilding as a patrol walked past the other side. She'd turned back quickly to face him and ended up crashing against his chest. She started to push back off of him, but he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her fully against him and stilling her. She gave him a confused look, but he gestured with his eyes to the corner of the small shack. One of the two men on the patrol group had stopped in front of the wall just around the corner. Charlie heard him as well now and gave Bass a questioning look. As they waited, Bass fought to control his breathing. The feel of her body pulled up against him felt so comfortably familiar, like coming home after one of his longer tours overseas before the blackout. He didn't want to let her go, but he couldn't help but wonder what the man just around the corner from them was doing. Then they heard the sounds of a zipper followed by a stream of fluid hitting the packed earth.

Bass dropped his grip on Charlie and silently pulled the machete from his belt. He pivoted around her, then dove around the corner. He slit the sentry's throat before he could zip up his pants. Bass slowly lowered the body to the ground and dragged it around the corner. She instantly got to work checking for any weapons or items they could use. He'd had a collapsible police baton and a small caliber hand gun. When she checked the magazine, there were only two bullets.

"Better make 'em count." Bass shrugged as they began to hear yelling coming from the makeshift prison they'd been held in.

They ran for the stand of magnolia trees just beyond the edge of the camp as chaos seemed to erupt behind them. He thought he heard shots, not all in their direction, and lots of yelling. Somehow, in all the confusion, they made it without being noticed. They pushed onward, across another small clearing, and into a marshy section of woods. It was horrible to traipse through, but it would hide their tracks. There was little moonlight filtering in through the dense foliage and wandering kudzu. Everything that brushed up against them sent a chill down their spines, as it could all be some kind of poisonous or man-eating reptile. Regardless, they pushed on with Bass in the lead and using his machete to break through the vegetation in their way. After about an hour with no sign of anyone behind them, they worried slightly why they weren't being followed. Bass just supposed that they didn't think them foolhardy enough to dive into a swamp at night.

They slogged through the filthy water and decaying vegetation for a few more hours, finally reaching solid dry ground again as the first signs of dawn cracked over the horizon. Exhausted, they both dropped to the ground in a little glade speckled with trees. After a few minutes Bass got up and gathered enough wood to start a small fire. Then he pulled off his boots, upturning them and pouring out a stream of murky water before setting them and his socks near the fire to dry. Charlie reluctantly started to do the same. The last thing they needed was some kind of fungal foot rot from walking around in boots and socks saturated in that water that was full of God only knows what. Bass was content then to just recline against the nearest tree trunk and let his sodden jean legs dry in place while he kept watch and let Charlie rest a bit. Charlie, being shorter, was soaked nearly up to the hip, and she had apparently decided that hanging her jeans out over the fire was a much better way to go. Bass gave her a look that asked "Seriously?" as she tugged her pants down past her hips.

"What? It's nothing you haven't seen before." She sounded practical.

Tell that to his dick. It was still having its own set of issues adjusting to the change in their relationship status. He forced his eyes shut and turned away from her, his breath coming in slow, measured counts as he willed himself not to become excited.

When he finally felt that he had his traitorous body under control, he turned to find that she had curled up in a nearly fetal position on the ground near the fire. She looked as alone as he felt. Why couldn't she be next to him, curled up along the contours of his side, and under his arm? Oh yeah. There was that little thing where he'd given Strausser carte blanche to extract information from her mother "in any way he deemed appropriate", knowing full well that Rachel would never crack. She still had all her teeth and he'd never seen her with more than a bruised cheek. Though he'd never asked, he could infer the form of torture that her inquisitor had doled out at his behest. He was every ounce the monster that they had accused him of being. Charlotte was better off alone.

As wrong as he knew it was, after two hours of dutifully watching her sleep curled up a few yards away from him, his libido finally overrode the logic centers in his brain. He rolled his head back against the tree trunk behind him and gave his mind over to imagining the forbidden scenario that had been trying to creep into his subconscious since she'd pulled off her pants.

_All he wanted was to walk over to her and curl up behind her. Their spooning would turn to something more when she felt his erection digging into her lower back. He'd slide an arm around her and trail his hand up underneath her shirt and jacket, along supple flesh and pert young breasts. _

His real life erection now ached against the front of his pants. He ran a hand down under the fabric to adjust himself, but even the slight contact of his own callused palm against the eager shaft made him wince. He let his hand linger and gave himself one quick stroke. That would be all, he promised himself. But his body had become too accustomed to being satisfied on a regular basis, only to now have it withheld. What the fuck. It's not like this would be the most heinous debauchery he's subjected her to. He let his hand drift lazily along the length of his cock, giving a good squeeze as he passed over the head each time. A bead of pearly fluid formed at the tip, but smearing it in his hand still wasn't enough lubricant. He withdrew his hand and spit into his palm before returning it to its work and letting his mind drift back to his fantasy. That was better.

_Laying spooned around her, he'd slowly trail his hand down and under her panties. He'd rake his finger through her curls before sliding further down. She'd already be sopping wet in anticipation for him. He'd slide a couple fingers through her arousal engorged folds, and hold her firmly against him as she bucked when he'd add a third. She'd pull her own underwear down, unable to fight the longing anymore, and he'd rub his rock hard dick back and forth along her entrance as he continued to explore her with his fingers, smearing a trail of her fluids along the inside of her thighs._

His eyes were closed as he pumped himself with abandon, his left hand on the front of his jeans simultaneously cupping his nuts and pulling at the fabric of his pants for more room.

_Then, when she'd be nearly about to come around his fingers, he'd pull them out of her and slide his cock into her, burying himself to the hilt in a slow but steady thrust. He'd fuck her from behind, his hands on her hips pulling her pelvis against him as her orgasm tears through her. She'd scream out his name as he rides her through wave after wave of contractions around him. _

"Charlotte." He'd growl into her ear.

"Monroe."

Wait. Had he moaned that in his dream or out loud? Because that was neither the right name nor tone for her response in his fantasy… His hand stilled, even though he was little more than a few hard strokes away from finishing. He slowly opened his eyes to find Charlie standing over him, her pants back in place. The look on her face blurred the lines of disgusted and amused. At least she saw the irony in this.

He slowly removed his hand from his pants and wiped it off on the leg of his jeans without saying a word. All the while he kept a wary eye on her face, not sure what kind of reaction to expect.

She dropped his boots and socks into his lap. "Annoying. Isn't it?" She flashed the briefest of triumphant smiles before turning away from him. "Come on. Let's get going."

"I don't get a chance to rest?" He asked petulantly as he pulled on his socks.

"If you've got the energy for _that_, then you've got the energy to keep moving. It'll be better for both of us if we don't draw this out."

He sighed. She had a point.

They walked for half the day before finding a little town. It wasn't quite the size of Willoughby, but it seemed to function more as a trading post, which suited them just fine. Charlie had wanted to split up at first, but a quick look around at some of the characters manning the flea market like stalls that lined the main thoroughfare quickly changed her mind. They were the epitome of sketchy. They managed to trade the police baton and one of the knives for a canteen, a few pieces of jerky, and some bread. It wasn't much, and Bass was rather convinced that they were getting a raw deal, but Charlie had her misgivings about the town and its townfolk in general. He couldn't really disagree and took the deal to just get them the hell out of there before things went south.

It was a little before dusk when dark clouds began rapidly rolling up from the horizon. They'd walked a good distance, and were nowhere near any kind of civilization.

"We need to find cover." He stated, not sure why he felt the need to voice the obvious out loud.

The only response he got from his travelling companion was an eye roll that clearly said, "No shit, Sherlock."

With no other options as the rain started to fall, they took shelter in a large drainage culvert running through an earthen mound that served as a bridge over a crevasse in the ground. Either in times past or in wetter weather, a creek probably filled the depression. They huddled within the ten foot diameter concrete cylinder under the bridge as the sky opened up outside. It shielded them from the rain and blocked most of the wind, but the storm still brought a drop in temperature and penetrating dampness. Charlie sat across from him and a few feet away, not speaking and looking generally unenthused at the limited space. He removed the last of the jerky and bread from his jacket pocket, broke the sections of each in half, and extended a share out to her.

She reluctantly took it from him and inspected it before taking a bite, as if she suspected that he'd done something to it. They ate in silence, occasionally passing the canteen of water back and forth.

As darkness fully enveloped them and the wet chill in the air began to sap the heat from their bodies, he could just make out the sight of her sitting and shivering a few feet away.

"Charlotte?" His voice was soft and full of concern. The sentiment earned him a contemptuous glare, so he tried a different approach. This time his voice was stern, "You're shivering. Come over here."

Again, the only response he got was a sneer insinuating that a snowball stood a better chance in Hell than he had of being allowed to comfort her.

If she wasn't going to play nice, he didn't have to either. "I didn't take on a whole damned clan of bandits and blow the lid off the little secret where I'm supposed to be dead, just to watch you freeze to death. Swallow your fucking pride and cope with the fact that we're going to have to work together this one more time." He wasn't nearly as upset with her as he made it sound. He wasn't even upset at all. In fact, he was looking forward to this as little as she probably was, though he supposed it was for different reasons.

After a tense stare down across the culvert that dragged on for minutes, Charlie finally relented. She stood and crossed over to where he sat with his injured right knee extended and the left pulled up to his chest. She kicked his right foot a little, until he spread his legs apart slightly. Then she turned and sat in the space between his thighs with her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and draped his body over her the best he could to conserve as much heat as possible.

He could feel the tension coursing through her slender frame, and he understood it. Whatever had fallen apart between them, their bodies still had a lover's familiarity with the flesh and curves of the other currently pressed against them. Bass was actively having to fight down rote muscle memory that was subconsciously trying to make his hands begin stroking along her arms and his lips dip into the hollow of her neck to begin trailing kisses up to her hairline, as he'd done for the last five months whenever he'd had her in his arms.

It was causing a forlorn kind of pain in his chest to have to keep everything businesslike between them, but he knew it was his responsibility to do so. She'd made it pretty clear where they stood, and he wasn't about to cross that line. Even if she would forgive a temporary transgression, it would only make it that much harder on him to go back when she remembered why she hated him so much.

She seemed to be having a much easier time with this than he was. He supposed that it was far less complicated for her to just hate him again, to return to the default state of seeing him as a monster that she had happily persisted in for a year and a half. He could feel the discontent building in the posture of her body and figured he was about to be subjected to some degrading banter.

Instead, when she finally spoke, her voice was small and confused. "You came back and saved me. Again." Then she just deflated in his arms.

It hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. That brave face and unpleasant demeanor were all a mask. She was probably even worse off than he was. She'd realized that what he'd done to her family was unforgivable, but she still cared about him. He could only imagine the confusion and the self-doubt that filled her every time she had to look at him. Part of him wished he'd just stayed gone, though then he realized that she'd be dead now, and he found justification for his return.

She was looking for some kind of answer to her statement, but he knew that he couldn't tell her the truth. How much worse would her anguish become if he admitted that he still cared about her. So he chose to continue with the tough guy front that had gotten her to submit to him a few moments earlier. "Yeah, well, some bad habits are harder to break than others." He said hurtfully.

He felt her bristle against him, his words obviously causing the damage he'd intended. She pulled her knees tighter against her chest, and he could feel his last chance for making some kind of amends with her slipping away. He tried to remind himself that it would be better for her in the long run, but he knew he couldn't keep intentionally hurting her.

Self-restraint and self-sacrifice had never really been his strong suits, so he decided to at least give himself credit for trying before he caved. His voice was softer this time. "If you haven't noticed, I'm not very good at letting go of people I care about, even when they obviously want me to." He dejectedly dropped his head forward, letting his right cheek rest on her left shoulder. "I mean, waking up to the muzzle of Miles's gun should have been a pretty clear message, but here I am."

"Then why aren't you out finding your son?" Her voice was flat.

"That's… different. I realized that he's got a life without any idea who the hell I am. It's better for him if it stays that way. Just knowing about me would put a target on his back. What kind of father would intentionally drag their kid into this steaming pile of shit that our lives have become?"

He hadn't really meant to say that much, but she'd always been able to silently coax these kinds of confessions out of him. Her mere presence was better than a thousand bottles of sodium amatol.

She hadn't said anything and he was starting to worry that she'd found his answer to be inadequate in some way. After a very protracted silence he felt her shift a little in his arms, and then her fingertips were running through his overgrown curls and tracing gently along his scalp at the back of his skull. He fought down a moan that had threatened to spill out in response to the both the tactile sensation and the tacit approval it implied.

"I miss you." It had slipped out of her mouth as a barely audible whisper.

"I'm right here." He offered dumbly, knowing full well that that wasn't what she'd meant.

"You always are." She sighed. "It's just that you now is so different from you before and it's easy to forget before. But the others, my family, haven't forgotten, and when I remember I can't…"

He lifted his head from her shoulder and pressed the side of his face against hers as he tightened his arms around her. He wanted so badly to ease her pain, but being the cause of it made him entirely unequipped to do anything helpful. He offered the only thing he could think of. "Just say the word and as soon as we get you back to Miles, I'll get gone for good this time."

It had apparently been the wrong thing to say, because her response was instant and panicked, "You can't. We still need you. Apparently I still need you." She glanced around them, it was the closest she could come to a thank you for saving her life again.

He nodded and sadly added, "It… _we_ can't go back to the way we were. Nothing's ever going to be able to change what happened. I did things that were unforgivable. The fact that you even tried… that's something I hadn't ever imagined."

"Do you want to go?" She asked as if afraid to hear the answer. "Because I'd understand if you did. You deserve to be around people that don't always see you for the worst part of yourself."

"I'm not running off and leaving you all to mop up this Patriot mess. If a Matheson's in a fight, then I'm in it too. Been that way my whole life. No point in changing now." Granted there were a couple years where they'd been in the same fight, just on different sides. But when you took into account the full scope of their history, four or five years barely qualified for a footnote.

She shook her head, trying to digest his proclamation of loyalty to the family that harbored a number of irreconcilable grievances towards him. "You never wanted something different?"

After a reflective silence he admitted, "Once."

"What happened?"

Was he really about to have _this_ conversation with her? "She died." He hoped that keeping it simple would end her inquisition.

"How?" Of course she'd just keep prying information out of him. It was what she did.

"Childbirth. Her and the baby."

Charlie tensed and froze, his answer obviously the last thing she'd expected to hear.

"It was a couple years after the blackout. Losing them… I couldn't…" He couldn't let himself think about it. Even more than a decade later the grief was still too over powering. Combine that with what he was currently going through, and he wasn't sure he could stand it.

She turned her head toward him, their foreheads now touching as she looked into his eyes. "That's how it all started, wasn't it?"

He nodded, the motion causing his nose to slightly rub against hers, their faces were so close. She turned slightly in his arms so that she was able to wrap her arms around him and then dropped her head to the crook of his neck.

He'd never given it much thought, but she was right. It was a long and winding path that had gotten him to the point of holding Rachel Matheson hostage and sending helicopters on bombing runs, but it had all started that night. He supposed she had the right to know.

"That night I made a choice while I was in no state to have done so. Our camp needed food. I knew what I was about to do was wrong, that's why I didn't even tell Miles until after, but I decided to let the ends justify the means. Miles didn't approve, but everybody else was just happy with the results. After that they started looking to me as the leader. There were other times I thought something wasn't really the right call, but people around me supported it, so I went with it. I let the mob justify a lot of actions I probably would never have done on my own. Our little band of survivors grew and so did the rough calls. A few years passed and the next thing I knew, I was the fucking President of a country. By then the hard choices had become too easy and there was no one to tell me when I was going too far. Miles was right there with me the whole time, so I figured I couldn't have been that far off base. I assumed he would have said something. Shit, in the early days most of it was his idea. I still fucked up left and right, but there were no consequences, so it just got worse. I doubled down on bad choices instead of cutting my losses. Then one night I woke up with Miles standing next to my bed and… well, you pretty much know the story from there."

"Bass…" She sounded choked up.

"Look, it's not an excuse, and it doesn't justify anything. But since it's pretty directly affected you, I guess you have the right to the whole story."

"Thank you." She answered and seemed to sink a little more deeply into his arms.

"Get some rest. I'll keep watch first." He offered.

"You sure? I got to rest earlier." She asked.

"Yeah. I got some things on my mind. Not gonna be able to sleep for a while."

"Wake me up whenever you get tired. Or if you need to talk or anything."

He just nodded. Somehow he doubted "or anything" included the one activity that probably would tire him out to the point of sleep. Not that he was in any shape to perform right now. He felt so impotent at being unable to do anything to ease Charlie's pain, that he was almost certain that his equipment was equally useless at the moment.

So he sat and held her, trying to exorcise the ghosts that haunted his mind. Shelley and the dead baby most of all, but in the end, he felt guilt over every last person that had melted into the radioactive waste of Philadelphia. It was all on him. Once the self-loathing nearly drowned him, (when the fuck had he become Miles?) he just focused on the sleeping body curled up against him.

As she breathed slowly against his chest, he thought about that fateful last afternoon they'd spent in Willoughby. He'd gone upstairs because he just couldn't stand to see Miles's lifeless body be poked, prodded, and hooked up to tubes anymore. He'd been there when the IED that left the scar on his inner thigh, the one that Charlie had always enjoyed tracing her fingers along, had landed them both in the infirmary for days. Then there was the touch and go abdominal surgery and recovery after Trenton, and the near coma from assumed brain swelling after the infamous "birthday bombing" in Philly. He'd needed a distraction from the thoughts of yet again potentially losing his best friend. And one hell of a distraction had certainly presented itself when he heard soft moaning and a fairly recognizable rhythmic moist slapping sound coming from the door to Charlie's room, which had been left ever so slightly ajar. At first he'd peeked in just to assuage his own curiosity, not believing that she'd actually be doing _that _with her whole family hovering around her potentially mortally wounded uncle down stairs. When he'd confirmed his suspicions, he found himself unable to look away and gently toeing the door open wider for a better look. Since that first meeting in Philly, she'd always been the willful firebrand that he'd fantasized about forcing into submission beneath him. After actually spending time with her, he'd grown to admire quite a few things about her. She was pragmatic, fiercely loyal to her family, and was generally able to hold her own in a fight. She was also nearly overly forgiving, to the point of even looking at him like he was something worth saving at times. But as he watched her burying her fingers in her pussy, he was mostly thinking about the part where he'd spent a year wanting to fuck her until she screamed out his name. And then she did. How does somebody pass up on something like that? He'd meant for it to be meaningless. A one off to provide a distraction and to deal with the building whatever it was that had seemed to be happening between them in that school after he'd come back for her. Then somewhere between their banter and confessions, the realization that he couldn't remember the last time he was buried in someone that fit that tightly around him, and the way they matched each other rather nicely in bed as well as battle, he realized that he wanted it to happen again. And he wanted her to want it to happen again.

Against all odds, they just kept getting closer. By the time they were laying in the snow and she was begging him to come inside her, he was already done for. He could see that she was struggling with how she felt about him and was bound not to push. He was already shocked that she'd allowed it to go on that long. There was no doubt that soon she'd remember who he was and call it all off. But she didn't. Then she stayed with him after that gunshot. When she'd faced down the wrath of her family over the discovery of their tryst, he'd actually let himself start to believe that just maybe she could actually care about him.

Then Rachel was on the porch with them, trying to be supportive. Or not. Maybe she knew exactly how that exchange would go and what feelings it would stir in her daughter. He didn't put anything past her. Either way, it was a realization that was bound to happen sometime. Sure, it would probably have saved both their psyche's a world of hurt if it had happened sooner rather than five months later, but he wouldn't give up those few months for anything. It was the damn closest he'd come to feeling human since… he wasn't sure. Maybe as far back as Shelley.

So now he was relegated to sit there and hold her as she slept and some kind of dream caused her to occasionally fist her hand in his shirt and mumble incoherently. He doubted he'd ever fully banish the feelings he had for her, and just hoped that he could keep them in check enough to allow them to keep working together with her family. His heart constricted painfully when her nonsensical dream mumbling became an audibly whispered "Bass." So she was the giant boulder to his Sisyphus. Or maybe she was the hill in this analogy. Whatever. The point was that he was going to spend every day suffering just out of reach of what he wanted. An apropos and justly earned Hell, if ever there was one.

He didn't remember feeling tired, let alone falling asleep, but it must have happened because now he was waking up. He yawned and stretched, and then spotted Charlie standing at the edge of their little hiding spot looking out over a foggy spring morning that was beginning to take shape outside.

"Hey." She acknowledged him. "Sun's coming out. Looks like it's gonna be a nice day. We should get going."

She looked content, like she'd made peace with something. He'd made his own kind of peace accord with himself in that tunnel overnight, but it certainly didn't leave him feeling content or optimistic for a "nice day". Oh well. Maybe she was just looking forward to getting back to her family.

He stood and stretched again. His shoulder and knee were uncomfortable and there were a dozen or so other aches from old injuries causing him to, for the first time, actually feel his age. It was depressing. They had no camp to break down and no food to make into breakfast, so they set out without any ado.

Finding the little trading town yesterday had given them their bearings, and they were fairly confident in which way they were going. They just walked throughout the day. Neither talked much, and while it wasn't a comfortable silence, it wasn't awkward or painful, so they both decided to just let it be.

While she seemed excited to return to her family, he just became more pensive. What would their reaction be to his reappearance this time? Would there be any fewer weapons pointed at him this time? Had his assistance to their group over the last six months done anything to affect the opinions of anyone in the group besides the conflicted young woman walking at his side? Bass mused on the topic of forgiveness as they walked. How permanent was the concept of unforgivable? Given enough time and selfless deeds, could he ever cancel out all the red in his ledger? Could he ever just make up for a few specific acts? He supposed it didn't really work like that (Hadn't Charlie told him as much once?), but could he ever actually earn a measure of forgiveness? He found himself hoping that maybe it was possible.

They passed through a small village in the midafternoon, and the residents confirmed their suspicion that there was a small camp of people keeping to themselves in the woods not far beyond the town limit.

As they approached the group camped on the outskirts of town, Aaron was the first to spot them.

"Hey guys!" He yelled to get the attention of the camp's other occupants. "They're back!"

Suddenly Miles, Rachel, and Gene appeared too, and everybody ran forward to greet them. Bass stood awkwardly to the side as Charlie embraced her mother first, then Miles.

"Hey kid. Good to have you back." Bass noticed that Miles actually broke a genuine smile, for possibly the first time ever, as he said it.

"Really, 'cause it looks like you guys were just sitting around having a party while we were fighting for our lives." Charlie responded, mostly joking but still slightly disconcerted by the appearance of the camp. They'd obviously been settled there for a few days, and they had some kind of animal, a wild boar piglet maybe, roasting on a spit.

"We found the bandit outpost where you went to snoop around, against my advice," Miles couldn't stop himself from adding the slight admonishment, "and followed the trail from what looked like a big scuffle to their stronghold a few hours' ride away. By the time we got there it had already been burned to the ground."

Bass and Charlie both looked questioningly at Miles.

Rachel continued, "We didn't know what had happened, so we went into the nearest town for information."

Miles picked up the story again, "Apparently the clan leaders had claimed to have Sebastian Monroe as a captive and wanted to make a deal with the Patriots. But by the time their soldiers got there, he was nowhere to be found. So they razed the entire compound."

"Guess word's out then about the not-so-lethal injection." Bass quipped looking down at his feet.

"That explains why they didn't follow us." Charlie rationalized.

"We knew you two'd show up sooner or later." Miles shrugged.

When Bass looked up, Rachel was encroaching on his personal space. He tensed, preparing for whatever physical abuse was about to be leveled his way. Instead, he froze in shock when she reached out and hugged him.

"When we saw that place destroyed, I was sure that I'd lost her. Then we heard that you had been there. Do you know what my first thought was?" Rachel pulled back and looked him in the eyes. "I knew that she was ok. After every messed up thing that has happened since the blackout, _you_ turned out to be the person I _knew_ would bring her back to me."

Bass finally tentatively reached his arms up and returned the embrace as Rachel put her head on his shoulder. And in that moment, there were no more hateful glares or contemptuous battles of will. She wasn't the spiteful woman he'd held captive for most of the last ten years. She was his best friend's sister-in-law hugging him in the cemetery as his family's coffins were lowered into the ground, the warm smile at the door that one year he and Miles unexpectedly showed up at their house on Thanksgiving when a freak snowstorm had stranded them on a layover in Chicago, a mother that would put aside anything in their past for the protection of her only child.

Something inside him cracked. "Rachel, I'm so sorry." He dropped his face and wept into the golden hair at the crook of her neck.

"I know, Bass." Her voice was understanding and forgiving. Something, everything, had changed.

After a few moments he felt Miles's hand clamp on his shoulder. "Alright. Enough with the crying. Put your big girl panties back on and let's get you two something to eat."

Rachel stepped back and Bass rubbed a palm across his face to remove the tears and snot that had accumulated during his little break down. Rachel took up her spot on Miles's other side, as he kept his hand firmly on Bass's shoulder and lead them back toward the camp. It probably didn't seem like much, but Bass knew his best friend. That was about as close to a hug as anyone outside those two Matheson women was ever going to get. Charlie was at his other side, the back of her hand occasionally grazing up against his as they walked.

Bass felt something akin to peace for the first time in as long as he could remember.


	7. Speciation

Needs - Speciation  
Speciation is defined as: the evolutionary process by which new biological species arise. This occurs when populations are separated and adapt to their new environment or conditions.

While Bass and Charlie had been busy finding their way back to Camp Matheson, Miles had overheard some potentially terrifying news about a disease outbreak in Willoughby. At Gene's insistence, though no one had really objected, the group had decided to wait around the area to hear confirmation of the story before deciding what their next steps would be. The Ranger courier wasn't expected for a couple more days still, so the whole camp was in a holding pattern. That didn't really upset Bass much, as he'd more than met his weekly quota of personal drama at least twice over, and it was only Wednesday. A little R and R was a welcomed change of pace.

He wasn't sure if it was an attempt to reiterate the truth in the previous day's peace accord, or if Miles's penchant for being quiet and broody had finally worn her down to utter boredom, but Rachel appeared in front of Bass after breakfast holding a chess board and a cigar box containing almost all of the necessary pieces.

"Aaron found it in that old farm house. No one else has been able to give me a run for my money yet. Care to take a shot?" She asked.

"You telling me strategic mastermind General Matheson still hasn't figured out which piece is the rook?" Bass smiled as he took the board from her and laid it out in acceptance of the challenge.

"I heard that." Miles grumped from a few yards away. "The rook's the one that looks like a castle." After a brief silence he wavered, "Right?"

"He's got to be the only man on the continent to ever control an army and not know how to play chess." Bass shook his head as he and Rachel exchanged a knowing and exasperated look. It was a long standing joke between the three of them.

The banter quickly drew Charlie's attention, and after finishing cleaning up the group's dishes from breakfast (her punishment for disobeying Miles's instructions to leave the bandit camp alone), she made her way over to them. She laid on her stomach in the grass and watched the match unfold.

The game had been going on for a while and Bass had Rachel just about where he wanted her. He moved the small dark colored rock, which was the stand in for his missing bishop, across the board to claim Rachel's last rook.

"You can't do that." Rachel looked at him quizzically.

"I can and I just did." Bass smirked.

"No." Rachel corrected. "I mean that's your knight, not your bishop."

The game had been missing a few pieces and they probably ought to have found more distinctive replacements than some rather ambiguous appearing rocks.

"Is not." He countered. "I want a second opinion." He looked to Charlie.

"That one was the little horse guy." She shrugged, her mastery of the game seemingly on par with her uncle's. He'd have to fix that.

Bass growled, "Whose side are you on?" Then he returned the knight rock and Rachel's rook to their previous places and began to contemplate his new strategy.

Miles walked up between Charlie and Bass and mindfully observed for a few moments before addressing Charlie, "Who's winning?"

"I have no idea." She answered with a shrug.

Bass felt cheated. He'd taken Rachel's queen a few moves back and was moving in for the kill. He was obviously winning.

"That's because you both have no idea how the game is played." He leveled at Charlie before looking up at his friend, "Jesus Miles, are you absolutely sure she isn't yours?"

That earned him a hard smack to the back of his head, but it was totally worth it to see the horrified and put out looks on everyone's faces. What? The affair had been common knowledge for a while now. There was no way they hadn't all thought it at some point or another. The math on the subject was all in favor of Ben, but you couldn't be around the pair of them for five minutes and not start to wonder.

After a brief head shake and an eye roll from Rachel, she added, "Oh, and Bass…" She moved her one remaining pawn forward. "Check mate."

His mouth dropped a little and got sort of stuck there as he took in the board. She was right. Dammit.

Miles laughed. Out loud.

Bass tipped over his king and extended his hand in defeat. They shook and Rachel smirked. He wanted to go hit something.

"Well that was thrilling." Charlie added sarcastically as she stood, stretched, and yawned. "Anybody up for some sparring?"

Bass looked at her curiously for a second. He let the very clear thought, "_Get out of my head."_ rattle around mentally for a moment just in case.

When she raised an eyebrow at him, he forced himself to believe that it was a response to the odd look he was probably giving her, and not because she could actually read his mind.

"Sure. Why not." He grumbled and began to follow her away from the camp. As they walked away, his peripheral vision did catch the sight of Miles rolling his eyes, and putting his hands up in a supplicating gesture towards Rachel. Really? This point had been pretty clearly settled. What did they think was going to happen?

They stopped once they reached a small clearing down by the little creek they'd been using as a water source for their camp. He squared up across from her and asked, "Weapons?"

"Hand to hand."

"Let's see what you've got." He put his hand out, palm up, and tipped his fingers as if to say "bring it on" a la Keanu Reeves in the Matrix. She'd never get the reference and it made him look rather bad ass and nonchalant about her impending attack.

She came at him suddenly, but he was able to block the quick succession of punches she tried to land to his face and side. She was holding back, like all of them actually did when they sparred. None of them really wanted to hurt each other, any more at least. But she was also telegraphing her punches more than normal and her footwork wasn't as steady as usual. Something else was on her mind. When she swung wide on a right cross, he reached up and grabbed her arm. He spun her around, wrenched her shoulder behind her, and pulled her back tightly against his chest. She was pinned.

"You're getting sloppy. You're the one that wanted to do this, but you're fighting like you got something better to do." He admonished her, not even having the remotest idea what was going on in her head.

"Maybe I do." She huffed. Then she went slack in his arms and dropped her center of gravity just a bit.

He braced himself for the drop and roll she was about to go for, but as she leveraged his left shoulder pain shot through it and it felt about to give, a reminder that it had been dislocated just a few days prior and probably had not fully healed. He ceded and let her flip him onto his back to avoid dislocating the joint again.

She triumphantly sat astride his hips, pinning his wrists under her knees and leaning forward to hold an imaginary knife to his throat. "Who's sloppy now?"

"Congratulations." He said it more to the cleavage she was waving in his face than to her. "You managed to knock down a cripple." He shot a pointed look at his left shoulder.

She seemed to suddenly remember his injury and sat upright, releasing his arms from where they were pinned under her knees.

As he rubbed his shoulder, he didn't have the heart to break it to her that she didn't weigh quite enough for the way she'd tried to pin him. One forceful thrust of his hips would have unseated her, freed his hands, and let him climb on top of her. Though the move seemed a little inappropriate for their current situation. Not that inappropriate wasn't already starting to happen in his pants. She was sitting on top of him, rubbing her ass around on his lap, and panting as she looked down at him. He wasn't even going to bother trying to fight this battle. If she noticed him twitching beneath her, she didn't give any indication.

"You just gonna sit here all day? Thought you had something better to do." He threw her earlier comment back at her as he propped himself up on his elbows. The position wasn't a good one for his shoulder and he winced.

She reluctantly, if he wasn't imagining the emotion, stood from her position sitting atop his groin and extended him a hand. "Let me look at it." She sighed, as if inspecting his injury was some new kind of chore.

"It was dislocated, but popped back in. Not much to see, just a little sore." He deflected as he took her hand and pulled himself up.

"Let me see it anyway." She scolded him.

He relented and stood with the arm hanging limply at him side as she stood in front of him and reached out tentative hands to feel his shoulder. He'd worried that with her rather sour demeanor, for no reason he could discern, she would be rough with the injury, but her hands were gentle as she probed the joint and slowly lifted the arm. The way she was standing so close and gently manipulating his shoulder caused a familiar ache to start pooling deep in the pit of his stomach. Then she moved to stand behind him and continue probing the muscles of his shoulder as she elevated and dropped the arm. He could feel her breath on the back of his neck, and it was almost more than he could take.

"Char.." He'd started to voice his protest, but stopped when she spoke at the same time.

"Take off your shirt."

Every neuron in his brain was shouting that this was a horrible idea, but his body acquiesced without his conscious approval. He wordlessly pulled the t shirt off over his head and just dropped it at his side. He was thankful that she was standing behind him at this point, as his erection strained glaringly obvious and painfully against denim and zipper. He'd been fighting an angry case of blue balls ever since she'd interrupted his attempt to relieve himself the other day. This was nearly too much.

She lifted his arm until it was straight out and started rolling the shoulder in a circular motion. "Tell me what hurts." She basically whispered into his ear.

Fuck. His dick hurt. She could tear the damn shoulder clean off at this point for all he cared. But that was probably not what she wanted to hear. He couldn't hide the slight cringe when he felt bone grinding as his arm rotated up and back in the shoulder socket.

"There?" Her voice was muted and contemplative.

"Yeah." He answered meekly.

Her hands skimmed across the muscles over his upper arm and shoulder blade as she leaned forward against his back. "Does this help?" It was whispered into his ear from a scant inch away from the lobe before she dropped her mouth and placed a kiss on the crease between the muscle groups of his shoulder.

"Charlotte?" It came out as a strangled gasp as his knees nearly buckled. He felt her smile against his skin.

"Why don't you sit down before you fall down?" She suggested.

"But…" He tried to turn and face her, to ask her what the hell was going on. She couldn't just do this and go back. He couldn't do meaningless, not with her.

She put her hands on his shoulders and held him in place. "I know exactly what I'm doing, Bass. Trust me."

He sighed and dropped to the ground. He did trust her. In what had to be the most ironic twist of fate he could imagine, without hesitation _he_ willingly submitted to _her._ If only President Monroe from a year and a half ago could see him now.

She knelt behind him and continued to massage his shoulder tenderly as she kissed along the side of his neck and jaw, and then focused on that spot just behind his ear that made his brain lock up. Eventually they dropped the pretense that this had anything to do with his shoulder, and their mouths met. The kiss was tentative at first, their fears spread before them like a great chasm. Though, like everything else that had happened between them, their bodies chose to ignore their brains and instinctively sought out the other like a magnetic polarity was pulling at them. There was a driving need behind the kiss as it deepened that neither was inclined to break. It was laced with sentiment on both their parts that he wouldn't even try to quantify. Eventually the kiss became so all-consuming that it was the only thing that existed in his world. His tongue aggressively reclaimed the familiar territory, and he made no attempt to forestall the little whimpers that escaped his throat as she shadowed his lingual explorations. By the time they broke apart to gasp for air, he'd tangled his hand in her hair and left her lips swollen and bruised.

Bass turned and grabbed her hips, then pulled her around so she was straddling his lap again where he sat. She was his again, and he needed her, all of her, that very moment. His hands slid up her back under her shirt and pulled her just close enough that her firm nipples grazed against his chest through her threadbare clothing. She ground down on him and it suddenly registered how overly stimulated he was. It had been too long and there were just too many emotions tied up in the way he felt touching her skin again. Shit. If she kept doing that…

She trailed her nails gently down his pecks and dropped her mouth to his throat. His breathing was coming in erratic gulps, but there was nothing he could do at that point. When she began to trace her fingers through the line of hair leading south from his navel, he knew he'd lost his fight. He tried to reach down and grab her hands to still them and spare himself a mortifying amount of embarrassment, but it was too late. She raked her pubic bone along the length of his hard on one last time and he broke. Shoving his tongue into her mouth and pulling her as firmly against him as he could, he came in his pants without her even touching him.

Once he'd spilled every last embarrassing drop of himself, he released his hold on her and collapsed backward onto the grass with his eyes slammed shut. Fuck, he felt like some kind of amateur. This was certainly not his finest moment. She'd actually come to him, wanting him, and he couldn't deliver. He didn't want to imagine what her response would be. Eventually he cautiously lifted a single lid and looked up at the woman still sitting astride him. Her reaction was not the revulsion he'd expected.

"Could you look any more pleased with yourself?" He moaned out.

She just kept smiling down at him. "Been wanting to do that since you told me about how it almost happened in Philly."

He sighed and reached up to pull her down to him, kissing her and rolling her underneath him. "I will have my revenge." He threatened between kisses.

"I'm counting on it." She purred into his ear.

He just marveled at her for a moment. He'd never deserve her, but damned if he wouldn't spend the rest of his life trying to earn the feelings she apparently had for him.

"Aww dammit! Not again." Aaron's voice was suddenly reverberating through Bass's skull.

This time Bass just stayed where he was and looked up at the intruder with a look that clearly said, "Do you mind?"

"WTF you two? It's like one minute you're doing it, the next you hate each other again, then suddenly you're back at it like rabbits. Exhibitionist horny rabbits. Can you just figure your shit out? Because trying to follow along with all this drama is giving me whiplash."

Bass and Charlie both couldn't help but laugh at Aaron's dismay.

"Yes. This is very funny. Fuck you both. Or, if you could actually _not _for like thirty seconds, I need to fill up my canteen first. Then feel free to go back to your lecherous fornication." With that Aaron actually stepped over them and made his was over to the stream. When he finished filling up his canteen he walked back to the path that led back to their camp mumbling, "Need to freaking hang a sock from a door knob or something."

"I missed this." Bass said unapologetically, a huge grin still plastered on his face.

"Me too." Charlie smiled up at him.


	8. Artificial Selection

**Needs – Artificial Selection**

The humor that Aaron's interruption had brought quickly gave way to an awkward tension between Charlie and Bass as they laid together near the stream. He still seemed slightly embarrassed, and once their laughter had died down, neither was sure what to say. Silence stretched out between them a few beats too long, and it became more and more obvious that they probably needed to talk about what they'd just done and what it meant to each of them. Unfortunately, healthy open dialogue wasn't exactly the bedrock of their relationship. Unless moaning each other's names counted for conversation. The longer they sat in silence, the more uncomfortable it became, and the more hesitant either became to speak first.

Charlie knew that she'd come to him because she'd missed him on a couple different levels. His previous wrong-doings seemingly forgiven by the rest of her family in light of recent events, she couldn't see any reason for her to continue to hold a grudge when all she really wanted to hold was him. What she didn't know, was what it had meant to him. She had noticed his initial hesitation, and didn't know why he'd started out reluctant to be with her, or why he gave into her. There was a world of difference between rekindling everything they'd had before, and being horny enough to not stop her aggressive advances when she started grinding on his lap. She really wished she knew where on the spectrum this encounter landed for him. She wanted to ask, but the question seemed to catch in her throat as she stared up into deep blue eyes that looked equally confused and apprehensive as her own.

Unable to handle the introspective quiet any longer, Bass moved first. He peeled himself off of Charlie where she'd been pinned beneath him and stammered something about needing to get cleaned up as he stood. She watched, almost dumbfounded, as he made his way over to the stream, pulled off his pants, and set about removing the evidence of their dalliance. Charlie found herself inadvertently turning away, as if to lend the situation some modesty. When had either of them ever worried about modesty when it came to the other? Everything just seemed off now. All too late, she started to reconsider the merits of her seduce-now-talk-later approach.

Once he'd tidied up and redressed, he stepped up behind her. She turned at the sound of his approach.

"We should get back." He said it softly, but the words held more indecisiveness than concern. "Aaron's probably gonna…"

"Yeah." Charlie didn't need him to finish the sentence out loud. Her mind was still racing and caught onto the notion that discussion of Aaron informing the others that they were seemingly back together was an excellent segue into asking him if they really were back together, but somehow the words just wouldn't come out. She was a little scared that the answer might not be the one she wanted.

Bass extended an arm in the direction of their camp, indicating that she could take the lead. She started on her way with him close behind, and thoughts of what kind of answer she really wanted were swarming through her head. She wanted to hear him say that it was more than meaningless sex. They'd had something before, and she wanted it back, though she'd be the first to admit that there was no world in which she and Sebastian Monroe would ever profess their undying love for each other. They weren't then, now, nor ever in the perceivable future would they be _in love_. Love was something for people that looked toward tomorrow with hope, envisioned a future full of happily ever afters. What they had had together was simpler, truer. Neither of them was naïve enough to believe in that their battle with the Patriots would leave them much of any length of a future, let alone one with a happy ending. Not believing in tomorrow any more than they believed in fairy tales, the best that they could have hoped for was someone that they could trust for now. Now was all they had, and it had seemed better, easier, when they were together. That was something she could believe in, and without it she just felt adrift.

She glanced back at him, hoping to catch some glimpse of an expression or anything that would give her a clue as to what was going on in his mind. He was looking down at the ground and chewing at the inside of his lower lip. It was a nervous habit of his she'd picked up on. Most of the time she never saw him do it, but would find the evidence of the displacement behavior when she'd pull his lip through her teeth or suck on it in the throes of passion. Her mind briefly wondered what it was that he had to be nervous about at this point, but then quickly refocused her attention on recalling the sensory memories of what it felt like to pull that bottom lip of his through hers. She'd stopped walking without either one of them realizing it, and he nearly crashed into her. He looked down at her quizzically, and she worried that her inappropriate thoughts were too evident on her face as he quirked an eyebrow at her. Before she could decide whether to act on her lusty notions or to come up with a believable excuse, he coughed pointedly and stuck his chin out in the direction now behind her. She turned her head and realized that they'd just reached the edge of the clearing where their camp was. Her family hadn't spotted them yet, but they would any second. It was probably not the best time to find the spot he'd worried raw on his inner lip and kiss it better.

With a gentle nudge from his elbow, she turned around and they resumed their trudge into the camp. As they entered the main space of their temporary home, they found Aaron and her family cloistered together. Gene and Miles were standing over where Rachel and Aaron sat together on the log they used as a table for their meals. Aaron had obviously told them what he'd stumbled across, and now they were about to come at them with a united front.

"Any particular reason you all look like you're about to stage an intervention?" Bass asked as if he was already fairly certain he knew the answer.

"We've been talking…" Rachel sent a pointed glance in Miles's direction before continuing, "…and there's something we wanted to ask you two to do for us."

Charlie braced herself. She was confident that this situation was about to become equal parts awkward, condescending, and accusatory in the next few moments. She was completely unprepared when Miles was the one to speak next.

"Messenger from Texas should be through here in the next day or two. We ought to have somebody in town to hear what he has to say in person." Miles ground out through a clenched jaw.

Rachel then continued in an uncharacteristically supportive tone, "You two have had a rough couple of days. Why don't you go blend with the locals for the night? Have some drinks, eat something you didn't have to catch yourself, stay in town and keep an eye out for the Ranger."

"Any reason you all feel the need to send us on this cushy little mission of yours?" Bass asked skeptically.

Miles groaned loudly and started to walk toward the edge of the camp. As he roughly brushed past Bass, he shoved a small bag of diamonds into his shoulder with an aggressive sounding grunt.

More confused than ever, Bass and Charlie looked uncertainly at the remaining group members.

"I think what Miles was trying to say in his very eloquent Neanderthal vocabulary, was that we get it. This," Aaron supplied and waved a finger back and forth between the two of them. "…is happening whether we're ok with it or not. And it's a little easier for all of us to be closer to ok with it if we don't have to see it or hear it. Any more than we already have." He shrugged. "At least for tonight."

Charlie's face turned beet red. Sure they'd been expecting to be confronted, but instead they were literally being told to go get a room. She looked up at Bass, hoping to see some sign of humor in his eyes over the absurdity of this situation. Instead his facial expression was closed off and pensive. That wasn't encouraging.

Before Charlie could say anything to him, Bass muttered to the remaining group still assembled before them, "Whatever you want." Then he abruptly turned and stalked off in the direction Miles had disappeared towards.

"I guess I'll go pack." Charlie said awkwardly, for lack of any idea how to better end this. To her great dismay, Rachel began to follow her to where her things sat piled by her bed roll. There was already enough awkwardness today for one life time. A heart to heart with her mother regarding her sex life was about the only thing that could possibly make this day any more uncomfortable.

"Any chance we could _not_ do this?" Charlie asked futilely.

Rachel looked slightly hurt by her daughter's comment, but brushed it off. "I'm not…" She started, but seeing the disapproving look in her daughter's eyes, she changed tactics. "No one is against you two. Not anymore."

"Really? Because Miles looked thrilled." Charlie said with her usual sarcasm.

"Miles is just concerned. About both of you. He's afraid of what will happen if something goes wrong." Rachel answered.

"Well that's just ridiculous." Charlie scoffed light heartedly. "I mean, we're in the middle of a war against an army we can't possibly beat, and I'm in some form of a relationship, or not, with a mentally unstable former dictator. What could _possibly_ go wrong?"

After a serious pause, they both began to laugh at her assessment of the situation. Sometimes it really took saying it out loud to appreciate how truly ridiculous their lives had become. When they calmed down, Charlie looked up at her mother questioningly. "Why do you suddenly seem to be the one that is the most ok with this?"

Rachel shrugged. "I've known Bass longer than you've been alive. In a perfect world, I wouldn't let him anywhere near you, pre-blackout or post-blackout version of him." She knew Charlie was about to throw up an objection, but she pushed on anyway. "But the world is far from perfect, and that is, in no small part, my fault. You're right. We are in a terrible situation right now with the Patriots, and who knows what will get thrown at us next. While I'd love to see you settled down somewhere safe and quiet, starting a family with some nice guy, that's just not realistic. As much as I hate our current reality, the very best I can hope for for my daughter right now is that she makes it through the day, that we all do, and that we make it through tomorrow as well. And while I can wish that it was someone else, when all hell breaks loose, there is no one more likely to be able to ensure that you will make to tomorrow than that man."

Charlie looked up from her packing to see her mother smiling acceptingly down at her. She didn't know what to say. She couldn't remember ever having such a rational and mature conversation with her mother, possibly ever. "Well, at least you're on board with this. Problem is, I'm not sure if he is." Charlie muttered the last part.

Rachel raised an eyebrow at her daughter skeptically. "Uh huh."

"It's been awkward since he showed up at that camp, and he didn't exactly look thrilled about this mission you guys have decided to send us on." Charlie attempted to defend her assessment of the situation.

"You think that just because he disappeared after Miles…" Rachel smiled at her. "Don't think the way Bass stormed off had anything to do with you." Off Charlie's confused look, she continued, "Those two men are damn near physically incapable of doing anything without the other's acceptance. It would be disturbing if it weren't so adorably pathetic."

Charlie shrugged.

"They'll be back in half an hour, one or both of them will have some fresh bruises, and everything will be worked out."

"You sound pretty sure of that." Charlie questioned.

"Like I said, I've known them for a long time."

Charlie found her mother's assessment of the situation somewhat comforting, but it didn't completely appease the disquiet she felt in the pit of her stomach when she thought about her and Bass and what may or may not be. At least this little mission would give them some time to figure it out. Maybe.

Rachel stood to leave, and Charlie followed suite.

"Thanks Mom, for understanding. Or at least trying to." Charlie realized that Rachel never did anything in half measures – she set out to build a weapon, she built one that destroyed the world. She wanted revenge, she walked clear across the continent, was willing to kill herself, and then risked the whole world to turn the power back on to destroy her nemesis. And now, with all the irony imaginable, when she forgave said nemesis, she truly forgave him. Her level of commitment was admirable, if not pathologic.

Rachel reached out and embraced her daughter. Charlie was tentative at first, but then relaxed into the hug. Just as she was beginning to feel comfortable with her mother, Rachel added bluntly, "Just don't get knocked up. I will not be the grandmother to that man's children."

And now it was awkward again. "I'll do my best." Charlie mumbled and backed out of the hug.

Rachel made her way back over to where Gene and Aaron were talking, as Charlie noticed Miles and Bass emerging from the woods at the edge of the camp. Bass seemed to be nursing his injured shoulder and the left side of Miles's jaw looked slightly discolored. Despite the apparent injuries, as they approached the rest of the group, Miles gave Bass's good shoulder a shove, and they both seemed to be nearly smiling as they parted company. Maybe her mother had been right.

Bass approached his bed roll off to the edge of the group and started in on the same packing routine that Charlie had. It wasn't like they had much stuff to pack, but if they were going to try and blend in town for the night, they probably shouldn't be walking around armed to the teeth and looking (and smelling) like nomadic vagabonds.

Charlie checked with her grandfather about their levels of supplies, and offered to go hunt down a little more small game for them to see them through the next couple days in case it was more than a day before the Ranger messenger arrived with news of the potential outbreak in Willoughby. Really she'd just wanted an opportunity to spend some time by herself, collect her thoughts, and clean up in the creek. Thankfully no one objected, and she set out with her crossbow.

Charlie returned a few hours later with two squirrels, a couple decent sized birds, and a rabbit. She was also feeling a bit more clear-headed and a lot cleaner. A bath and a successful hunt made her feel accomplished, which always brightened her spirits. After handing off her catch to Miles to clean, she approached Bass. He was laying on his back on his bed roll, hands laced behind his head.

"Come on, partner. We've got a mission." She teased.

He stretched, his arms extended above his head. The movement scrunched up his face and pulled the hem of his t shirt up, exposing a patch of tan skin and taught muscles just above the top of his jeans. Charlie couldn't help but stare. When he began to sit up, their eyes met, and he gave her a look indicating that he'd certainly noticed her ogling.

"You sure are in a hurry. Any reason for that?" He teased.

"Just following orders." She smiled down at him and extended her hand down to help him up.

He took the offered hand and let her help hoist him to his feet. Once standing, he quickly dropped her hand and reached for his pack. "Best not disappoint General Matheson." There was a slight bitterness to the way he'd said it that she suspected had far more to do with whatever had taken place between him and her uncle in the woods than it did with her.

"And I'm hungry." She added as an afterthought to try and steer the conversation away from whatever was eating at him.

He shrugged, accepting her new answer, and started off toward town. She followed behind and tried to avoid the stares of her family as they exited the camp to go spend a night in a hotel room. No insinuation there. Nope.

The walk didn't take long, but it was made mostly in silence. As they approached the edge of the town, Charlie tried to strike up a conversation. "So when do you think the Ranger will get here?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." He offered nothing beyond that answer.

She wasn't sure what she'd done to deserve the silent treatment, but while she had hoped that they would talk a little more, the quiet between them didn't seem particularly strained. So she tried not to read too much into it.

Even though they both knew the real reason they'd been sent on this farce of a mission, they both became on point when they entered the town around dusk. There should have been no chance of danger to them, but if it weren't for bad luck, neither of them would have any luck at all, so they remained guarded and vigilant. They made their way to the bar/boarding house on the main street. It was the center of the town's social scene and the most likely place that a Texas rider coming through the town would stop to disseminate news. Also, it had booze. That alone was enough of a reason for it to be their first stop. Bass saw to getting them a room for the night and taking their bags up to it while Charlie ordered them some food.

The kitchen's special for the night was a beef stew. It was better than anything her mom had ever managed to cobble together, and not just because of the superior meat. Charlie wouldn't mind if she never ate squirrel ever again in her life. "The other other white meat" Aaron had always called it, though she never got the joke, even after all these years.

Most every other shop in town had closed for the evening, and so there was nothing more to do than to settle in. They sat at the bar with their stew and a bottle of whatever alcoholic concoction was dripping out of the still in the back of the building. They ate and forced some slight mindless banter to appear to the crowd like any other couple traveling through. They finished their meal and continued drinking.

After a while, Bass joined in on a poker game at a nearby table and Charlie made small talk with the bartender, hoping to glean any new information about what was happening back in Texas. He knew nothing beyond what her family had already found out. Bass seemed to have struck out similarly with the local gamblers, but had also managed to lose a few diamonds in the process. Though he had garnered the attention of one of the younger female waitresses. Charlie knew he was just trying to get information, the same way she'd done with the bartender, but she was still insecure enough about where they stood that she felt pangs of unwelcomed and unwarranted jealousy tearing at her insides. She downed a couple shots in rapid succession and, carrying what was left of the bottle with her, made her way over to a booth at the back of the bar that had opened up. She sat facing the back of the building so that she wouldn't be able to see what was going on at the poker table.

Charlie was a true Matheson, in the fact that her version of dessert was usually liquid and more than eighty proof. Though this time, when a waitress (fortunately not the one that had been hitting on Bass) walked up and recommended she try the apple pie, she decided to give it a chance. A few minutes later, the pastry had barely been set down in front of her when a fork darted out from across the table and snagged a piece. Bass was chewing on the pilfered bite of pie as he slid into the booth across from her.

"I didn't know you had a sweet tooth." He said cheerily as he reached out for another forkful.

She just shrugged and dug her own fork into the quickly disappearing slice of pie. "Needed something to do besides sit around and watch you… pump the locals for information." She made little effort to hide the double entendre and hint of bitterness in her voice. Maybe it was time to start slowing down on the booze.

He laughed at her. "Charlotte Matheson, are you jealous?"

"No." She blurted out defensively, then added, "Jesus Bass, are you drunk? You shouldn't say my name that loud. Someone could hear."

He held up three fingers and sequentially folded each down as he listed off his responses. "One, yes you are. Two, maybe. And three, no one's listening." Then he smiled as if he was rather proud of himself for managing to address each of those points without forgetting one.

Her mouth dropped open in shock as she realized what was sitting before her. It was Sebastian Monroe, happy drunk. She'd heard some of the stories he told about him and Miles pre-blackout, so she knew that this creature had theoretically existed, she just never thought she'd actually see it. Sure she'd seen him black out drunk more than enough times by now, but those were all times when he'd started drinking out of anger or grief. Alcohol usually left him sullen and broody. Not tonight. Here he'd actually just relaxed and seemed to be enjoying himself… and her pie.

"Hey!" She complained as she realized that he was shoveling the last oversized chunk of pie into his mouth. Under the table she kicked his shin. "That was mine."

"Sorry." He garbled around a full mouth and signaled for the waitress to bring them another piece.

She kicked at him again, but this time his hand shot beneath the table and caught her foot before she could make contact. He lingered a bit too long, not letting go of her ankle and making very pointed eye contact. Happy drunk Monroe was really good at this flirting thing, she realized as she felt her stomach drop under his stare and the fact that his thumb was starting to rub caressing circles she could feel through her boot against her calf. She was saved by the return of her waitress with the new slice of pie.

At the distraction, Charlie was able to pull her foot from his grasp, and just stared at him. Realizing that she wasn't going to start eating on her own, he scooped up a forkful of the desert and held it out to her. She looked at him like he'd lost his damned mind if he thought she was going to let him spoon feed her. Then out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the offending waitress from earlier at the poker table eyeing her maliciously. A vindictive smile pulled at Charlie's lips and she parted them. He slid the fork into her mouth and she made every effort to look as seductive as possible as he gently pulled it out.

He seemed to be watching her curiously, unsure about her sudden change in attitude. She just chewed her pie victoriously as she saw the waitress turn away in disgust. It really was pretty good. Then he seemed to realize what she'd been up to and laughed.

"Told you you were jealous."

"Shut up and eat this."

He raised an eyebrow at her suggestively.

"The pie!" She corrected.

He just shrugged and took a forkful. Then they both started laughing.

They finished the pie in short order and switched from liquor to water before they both ended up too wasted to be of any use if the messenger did show up. Their conversation stayed light and superficial, but at least they were talking.

The hour was getting late and the number of patrons in the bar was starting to dwindle. Charlie figured that they'd give it another half hour or so before turning in themselves. There'd been no sign of the messenger, and it was more and more doubtful that he would arrive that night as the hours stretched on.

What Charlie also didn't want to admit was that she was teetering between wanting to get to their rented room above the bar as quickly as possible and putting off whatever was about to come that night. Initially she'd found herself racked with nerves at the prospect of spending the whole night with him like this. She still didn't know why he'd seemed less than thrilled at the prospect of this outing, raising her concerns that he wasn't ready or willing to recommit to whatever it was that had been between them. Fortunately, even as she was sobering up slightly, she'd still drank more than enough of the local tavern's home brew to numb her concern and add fuel to the flame that drew her to him like a moth.

He was telling some story about Miles's birthday at a beach and some girl with one leg, but she wasn't really paying attention. He was actually smiling as he told the story, and the foreign facial expression intrigued her to the point where she almost couldn't look away from his mouth. As she just kept watching him talk and laugh, she started to feel the built up sexual tension from that morning that she, unlike him, had been unable to release. She felt an overwhelming need to be touching him at that point, and couldn't manage to come up with any good reasons for why she shouldn't. Their feet had been resting next to each other's under the table for a while at that point. She slowly shifted her foot, and began running the top of the toe of her boot up the inside of his calf.

"Charlie, what are you doing?"

She almost didn't register that he'd stopped the story. Then, the spell of the moment broke and she became concerned that she'd crossed a line she shouldn't have. "I just… I can stop…" She stammered quickly.

As she moved to pull her foot away, he caught her ankle once again. "Why would I want you to stop?" He lifted her foot up so that it was now in his lap, resting against his inner thigh, as he began once again to massage her calf and ankle. She curled her toes at the sensation and caused her foot to rub along his thigh. She felt his muscles tighten under the worn sole of her boots.

He let out a low growl and looked at her with hooded eyes.

"What?" She questioned innocently.

"When you do that it makes me want to drag you upstairs right now, but it also makes it so that I can't really get up and do that at the moment."

She shot him a confused look.

Exasperated, he motioned to the bench seat next to him with his eyes and patted the seat. Taking the hint, she withdrew her foot from his lap and slid around the table to sit on the bench next to him. Once she settled in, their shoulders and knees touching, he took her hand and placed it firmly in his lap against his jeans. There was no mistaking what she felt under her palm.

He whispered in her ear, his voice gravely with desire, "You make me so fucking hard, I can't get out of this seat without giving everyone in this place a show."

She felt her face flush in embarrassment and desire, and dropped it to hide her reaction from him. Though she had yet to remove her hand from his lap.

"Hey," he murmured softly in his ear. "Look at me."

She lifted her chin back up to face him.

"I know you know what you do to me." His voice had become nearly tender in her ear, but still kept its very seductive quality.

"It's just… hearing you say it… here, in public…"

"It bothers you?" He asked.

"Not exactly." She met his eyes and let her hand apply a bit more pressure to his erection straining through denim beneath it.

"Fuck." He ground out through clenched teeth. His hand slowly drifted across her upper leg to her inner thigh. He gripped roughly at the sensitive flesh there, causing her to press her thighs together tightly around his hand. "You have no idea… The things you make me want to do to you…" It was hot and breathy right in her ear.

To Charlie, the rest of the world had dropped away. She didn't care that they were in public, talking dirty and nearly rubbing each other off through their clothes in that booth. She had never wanted the man next to her as badly as she did at that moment. She didn't care if it was just sex. Sex with him might just be enough. She turned her head and leaned in so that now she was whispering in his ear, her lips skimming across the lobe as she spoke. "Tell me."

He needed no further encouragement, but she continued to squeeze the front of his jeans roughly. It earned a sharp exhale on his part before he nearly growled into her ear. "You keep that up and we're not going to make it upstairs." The only response he got was a wicked lusty smile, so he continued. "You're making me want to rip off your pants and take you right here. You pull my cock out and just get in my lap here in this seat. I'll make you scream so loud everyone will be looking, know exactly what we're doing. Then fuck it, no point in hiding it. I'll bend you over the table and take you from behind, fuck you so hard, neither of us will be able to walk straight for days."

"What's stopping you?" She was stroking the front of his jeans in earnest.

He let out a deep sigh and seemed to be trying to regain control of himself. "Can't imagine you going for the exhibitionist thing. And I'm not really sure I want everybody watching, seeing you."

"Good points." She said it as she removed her hand from his crotch, eliciting a small whimper from him. "But I've had enough talking. Let's go upstairs."

He took a deep breath and nodded. He clutched her hand in his as she started sliding out of the booth. He tossed a few small diamonds on the table for their waitress, and pulled her back to him as soon as he stood, digging his massive erection into her lower back and shielding it from view of any nosy bar patrons. Moving together, they made their way for the stairs that would lead to their room.

She glanced back at him occasionally as she led the way up the stairs down the hallway. When they reached their room she gave him a little smirk before shoving her hand into the front pocket of his jeans. She let her hand search around unnecessarily for a moment, grazing against his over sensitized anatomy through the thin cotton of the pocket lining, before clutching the room key within.

He gave a tormented sigh and scrubbed his hands down his cheeks as she withdrew the keys. She could feel his heated gaze on her back as she turned away from him and slid the key into the lock. She felt him lean in, his chest millimeters from her back, as he collected her hair at the back of her neck in one hand. It made her fumble for a moment, and he gave the ponytail in his grip a subtle tug before growling into her ear, "Either get it open, or I'll kick it in."

She exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and twisted the key in the lock. The door coasted inward on its hinges and she craned her neck to see the approval in his eyes. One corner of his mouth tugged up into an evil grin as he dropped his hands to her shoulders and gave her a little shove into the room.

Using the light still filtering in the opened door from the torches in the hallway to guide her, she crossed the room to stand next to the bed. He turned his back to her and shut the door. Without the light from the hallway, the room was thrust into pitch blackness. He instantly set to locking the door behind them and attempting to light the small hurricane lamp on the table near the door.

As Bass turned his back to her and started at the mundane, yet necessary, tasks of getting them situated in their unfamiliar and temporary housing, Charlie decided that she might as well help things along, and she quickly kicked off her boots and stripped out of her clothes. The alcohol that had so emboldened her downstairs seemed to have suddenly evaporated from her bloodstream, and she wanted to get this started already to quiet the uncertainties that were now nagging loudly at the back of her mind.

This thing between them had started with sex. She doubted that she would ever be able to pinpoint an exact moment where that changed for each of them, but somewhere along the line it had. Now she was actually worried that it had changed back. At least for him. All the raunchy things they'd said to each other downstairs echoed through her ears and she felt nearly convinced that whatever this was had gone back to just being about more primal motivations. Maybe that was for the best. What Miles had said to her the night he had confronted them still rang in her ears.

"_You have no idea how badly this is going to end. This isn't just something you play at. He breaks again, for any reason, and one of us is going to have to put a bullet in him. Just remember that."_

So maybe it was better if he remained detached. Better for whom, she wasn't sure. Him, her family, society? Because as much as she had fought it tooth and nail, tried to deny it to herself and everyone else, and attempted to quash the feelings when confronted with the dirtiest ghosts of his past, there _were_ feelings. She cared. Miles had constantly given her crap about always trying to see the good in people where there was none. But how do you look at someone that has shattered that many times, broken well beyond what should be reparable in even his best friend's eyes, gone that dark for that long, and not appreciate the small battered piece of him that kept trying to care about something, anything? Her. He cared about her. Or at least he used to. Her reactions were understandable and certainly justified, given their past, but still, as they'd stared down the growing feelings they had for each other, she'd been the one to blink first. Then he'd assumed the worst and left. Maybe to protect himself, maybe her, but he'd given up on her all the same. He had come back to save her, but not wanting her dead and caring about her the way he used to were two different things entirely. She didn't know where they stood and that terrified her.

Her insecurity was obviously telegraphing to her face, because his expression changed drastically when he turned and saw her in the dim flickering lantern light. He'd been smirking as he'd started pulling his jacket back off his shoulders, but as he took in the full sight of her, he froze and simply let it drop to the floor behind him.

The thoughts in her mind went silent as he began to tentatively approach her. The look in his eyes gave nothing away as to his underlying thought process as he crossed the room in three large strides. He stood tensely at the periphery of her personal space and seemed to be waging an internal struggle. His hands clenched and relaxed at his sides, and Charlie had no idea what to make of his apparent unwillingness to touch her.

"You're still wearing an awful lot of clothes for someone that's supposed to be… how'd you say it? 'Fucking me until I can't walk straight.'" Charlie tried to sound brave and provocative, but wasn't sure she completely masked her nervousness.

His eyes flashed something that looked like disgust for the briefest of moments before he slammed his lids shut and took a deep breath.

His reaction startled her, and she suddenly found herself nearly trembling and expecting the worst. Then he opened his eyes, and the softness she found in their blue depths left her stunned. Before she could say anything, his arms were around her, pulling her against him, and he leaned down to rest his temple against the crown of her head.

"Charlotte," He started in a sincere voice, "I'm not going to fuck you."

She pulled back slightly in his arms and looked up at him. "But downstairs you said…"

He brushed an unruly lock of hair back behind her ear as he interrupted her. "Downstairs I was caught up in the moment."

"Well then, I'm starting to feel awfully naked." She laughed out nervously. "If we're not going to… I'm gonna put my clothes back on."

"No."

"No?" She quirked a confused eyebrow at him.

"I didn't say…" He started an explanation but quickly changed tactics. "Men _fuck_ certain types of women and in certain situations. That's certainly not you, and no matter how you felt about me when this started, that has never been us."

"So… clothes back on then?"

"Don't get me wrong," He corrected with a half-smile, "I plan on spending this entire night buried so deep inside you that no one is going to know where one of us ends and the other begins. But at no point am I going to just fuck you. We're beyond that and you know it."

Charlie couldn't stop a slight blush from invading her cheeks at his words. She was unable to quantify the relief she felt as his lips found hers and they melted into each other. She moved her hands up to cup his cheeks and run along the lengthening scruff of facial hair as they reveled in the familiar connection their lips and tongues reignited. She pushed up onto her tip toes, causing her body to rub roughly up along the front of his.

He growled into her mouth before pulling back. His voice was gravely and thick, but held a bit of light hearted self-deprecation as he grumbled, "I think we've pretty well established what you can do to me without even taking my clothes off already today." He pulled his t shirt off over his head and started at his belt buckle as he leaned his face back into hers and nearly begged against her lips, "Would you just touch me already before I go through the single most embarrassing sexual experience of my life twice in one day?"

Her hands shot to the waistband of his pants and dueled with his fingers for the honor of unfastening his button and zipper. Their mouths had to fight down the smiles stretching their lips to resume their kiss. He kissed her thoroughly as he kicked off his boots and socks, and she worked on pushing his jeans down past his hips. His hands were splayed at the nape of her neck and half buried in her hair, pulling her mouth ever more firmly against his as he kicked off his pants from around his ankles. Finally both naked, their hands began reclaiming the familiar bodies. His became hopelessly distracted on their southward journey by playing with her breasts. She took pity on him and did as he'd asked, sliding her hand down between them and assertively pumping his erection. His ministrations of her nipples stuttered and halted as his head lolled backwards. She smiled against the soft skin of his neck as she began placing kisses along the cords of sinew exposed by his position. She'd never stop taking pleasure in the way she could predictably manipulate this particular man.

"I don't want you to stop." He forced out words along with his ragged breaths, "But I need to be in you."

And just when she'd thought that she was the one in control of him, when he said things like that in a voice like that, there was no way she could deny him.

She kissed him gently on the lips and started stepping backwards toward the bed, leading him along by gently pulling on his cock that was still firmly within her grasp. The back of her thighs hit the mattress and that was apparently all he could take, because Bass tackled her back onto the bed at that point. They rolled around playfully for a few moments, jockeying for position, and ended up laying on their sides facing each other and pulling themselves flush against the other. He ran his fingertips down along the side of her rib cage, flank, and hip before gently pulling her thigh over his, positioning himself between her legs. He reached down to locate his tip more flush against her entrance, and seemed slightly surprised when her hand joined his and held him from beginning to rock forward into her.

"Charlotte?" His voice was full of concern.

She smiled at him to attempt to assuage his fears. She knew what she wanted to tell him, but wasn't sure how to say it. "I just wanted to say… before we start this time… you don't have to… It's ok for you to… stay. Inside."

The look he gave her was rather incredulous. Yeah. This had happened before and it hadn't really gone well for him. He was quick enough to be once bitten, twice shy on this particular topic.

"I know. But this time it really is ok. That's why I wanted to tell you before we started." She entwined her fingers with his around his shaft as she spoke.

"Are you sure? Because as much as I'm all on board with this idea right now, it's not exactly something we can take back down the road, if something happens."

She let out a small chuckle. "Not gonna be an issue right now. Either that time of the month starts in the next couple days or it's already too late."

The look in his eyes instantly became more intense. "Do you think you're… are you late?"

"No." She vehemently stated, and didn't miss the slight softening of his expression that she wasn't sure whether to classify as relief or disappointment. "Everything's still right on track as far as I can tell." With her period due any day now, there was as little risk as there ever would be. And tonight she really wanted this, needed it even. After everything, she needed all of him.

"You sure this isn't gonna end up like last time?" He questioned, smiling as he trailed kisses along her collar bone. "'Cause while the idea of coming inside you all night long has me so fucking hard right now, it's not worth it if you are gonna regret it in the morning."

"I'm sure." She groaned in exasperation. "Now are we gonna do this or what?"

He smiled at her. "Well, aren't you the romantic."

She treated him to a premium eye roll. "It's been two weeks and I've missed you so much, that all I want is for you to be coming inside me as soon as humanly possible. How much more romantic do you need, Monroe? Should I buy you some flowers?"

He smirked and shook his head at her. "How's a man supposed to argue with that? Forget I said anything." With that, he kissed her, used his free hand to pull her firmly against him, and slowly pushed into her.

She gasped and keened as he penetrated her, filling her and causing the familiar stretching and accommodating of sensitive tissues. He moaned once he was buried as deep in her as he could. They began slowly moving together. There was no rush, and they intended to take their time. Hands caressed, cupped, and teased as their lips met, parted to explore other areas, and returned to each other. After a while he rolled on top of her to push more fully into her. They'd wanted to go slowly, but Charlie found herself already getting close. She was just so relieved that her sentiments towards the man currently covering her were returned, and she'd gotten no release in their earlier encounter. She gave him a few shoves and he got the hint, flipping onto his back and letting her ride him. His hands held her hips, pulling her down more forcefully onto him and helping to control their timing. They were both moaning with each pounding of their bodies. Charlie realized that she wasn't the only one on the verge. A few more bounces and she was done. She felt herself clamping down around him and he let out a strangled cry that would have brought her to orgasm all on its own if she weren't already there. As her body continued to clench reflexively, he quickly dragged his heels up the bed, lifting his knees and causing his thighs to push her forward. She threw out her hands and braced on his chest as she fell forward. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and crushed her against him, claiming her lips as he lost control.

Charlie felt the tip of his penis flaring against her cervix as warm fluid spilled into her with each erratic thrust of his hips. They were both moaning into the other' mouth at the sensation until he pulled his mouth away to gasp for air. She dropped her head to his shoulder as his sank into the pillow. His hand threaded through her hair and began messaging her scalp as they both lie panting and sated, him still buried inside her as much as his softening anatomy would allow.

Once they'd both begun to come down from their post-coital highs, Bass clung to her shoulders and murmured, "Definitely one of your family's better ideas."

She laughed, causing her breasts to move against his chest. He pulled her tighter against him.

"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?" He smiled and kissed her forehead.

"Not anymore." She smiled back and placed a kiss on his neck. As their bodies cooled and the night air hit their stilled and sweat slicked skin, she couldn't suppress a slight shiver.

He instantly reached down and grabbed the covers that had been crumpled beneath him, and with a bit of shimmying their combined weight, pulled an edge out from under them and draped it over them. Completely at ease, they dozed briefly, recovering from their exertions and the stress of the previous few weeks.

…..

It was still inky black when she woke, the level of darkness and pitch of the moon out their window indicating that she couldn't have been asleep for more than an hour. Then she realized what had woken her. She was wrapped around Bass's side while he slept on his back. It had been a comfortable position until he'd begun squirming and mumbling. He was dreaming again, and based on the increasingly frantic movements, it wasn't a good dream.

She'd learned by experience on their way from Vegas to Willoughby together that it was best not to attempt to wake him. He would be terrified, disoriented, and violent when jolted out of a nightmare. She was honestly lucky that she hadn't gotten anything more than a blackened eye the first time she thought she'd help by trying to rouse him. He had apologized profusely as soon as he'd become aware of his surroundings and circumstances, but that had taken almost a full minute. That man could do a lot of damage in sixty seconds.

He had told her after that first time to just leave him alone when something like that happened. At first she'd thought he was just being a dick, but after seeing it happen a few more times over the past few months, she realized that he really was usually able to break out of it himself. Eventually she found it rather sad. He was so isolated and paranoid that he'd learned how to wake himself from his own nightmares. As they'd grown closer, she'd also begun to realize that part of the reason he didn't want anyone to pull him from the torment was that he at least partially believed he deserved it. Suffering through his nightmares seemed to serve as some sort of penance to atone for his sins. He didn't volunteer any information about what horrific scenes plagued his sleep, and she never asked. She figured that he had a right to keep his demons as his own.

To give him some space to sort out whatever he needed to in his mind, and to avoid any thrashing limbs, Charlie got up out of bed. She walked over to the table by the door and blew out the flickering lamp, as the moon had risen outside enough to provide some light in the room. Then she walked over to the small wash basin and poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher that had been left there. She sat in the wooden chair against the wall and watched him. She had, in the not so distant past, received a perverse kind of pleasure in seeing his subconscious distress. Now, she didn't take any pleasure in his torment, but she couldn't help but appreciate it as a sign that no matter how monstrous he had once seemed, he was still a man who suffered just like the rest of them.

His thrashing was starting to still, and she knew that meant he'd be waking up momentarily. She moved over to the window, not wanting him to wake and find her sitting there staring at him like a giant creeper. But his flailing had pulled the covers down to where they barely draped over his hips and was providing her with a rather spectacular view. That thought really made her tear her eyes away from him, because the only thing worse than him thinking she was creepily watching him sleep was the idea that he'd wake and realize she was lusting after the sight of his naked torso. Smug bastard would get off on that just a little too much and she was determined to deprive him of that satisfaction.

She was staring out over the empty square and the marshy forest beyond, trying to guess how far away they were from Willoughby, when she felt his lips on the back of her neck, and his hands sliding around her waist. Her skin pimpled with gooseflesh as he murmured "Hey." against her neck.

"Hey yourself." She smiled back at him as she turned her neck to kiss him.

"Sorry." He offered flatly as an apology for obviously having chased her out of bed.

"Don't worry about it." She sighed as his hands began to trail down along her lower abdomen. She leaned back into him as his fingers ran through her curls and then two dipped inside her. He was already hard, a likely side effect of his spiked blood pressure that he obviously intended to put to good use. She ground her ass back against his erection and he moaned into her ear. He leaned forward into her back and increased the pace and tenacity with which he worked his fingers inside her. She had to brace one arm against the wall in front of her as she slid the other behind her back and between them until she was able to wrap her fingers lightly around his cock and began to stroke him softly.

"Might be time for us to go back to bed." He suggested seductively in her ear.

Truth be told, Charlie was actually rather enjoying the position she was currently in – sandwiched between the wall and his hard body. "But the bed's all the way over there, and this is pretty good right here."

"It has been a while since we've done it against an actual wall." He mused.

She realized that he was right. Any vertical sex they had was usually against trees, the side of a wagon, or the occasional fence. Wall sex suddenly seemed like a luxury they shouldn't pass up on. "A problem we should certainly address." She added with a slight laugh.

"If you think so." He traced his lips along her neck as he removed his fingers from her, pushed her flush against the wall, bent his knees to get the angle right, and drove his penis into her.

She moaned out his name as he slid a hand between her pelvic bone and the wall, using it to rhythmically pull her back into his groin and to let her rub off against it. His other hand made its way to her breasts where he began toying with her nipples, pinching and rolling them in a pattern that had her ready to melt. She kept one forearm braced against the wall to keep her face from slamming into it with each one of his increasingly brutal thrusts. Her other hand reached around behind them, latching onto the toned flesh of his ass and digging her nails in.

They were both stammering expletives, blasphemy, and each other's names with increasing fervor when he accidentally slipped out of her. "Ok. Forget the fucking wall." He grumbled and pulled her toward him, spinning her she that their fronts collided. He kissed her aggressively, his mouth claiming every inch of hers.

This was the way she liked him best, in bed at least. He was dominant and demanding, they'd skirt the boundaries of actually being rough with each other, but he would always be in control. He would take care of her fully, and she knew it. He was the perfect alpha male. It was what had drawn her to him all those months ago when they'd started this whole thing. As he pushed her away from him and towards the bed, spinning her so that he could bend her over the edge of it, she remembered him taunting her with questions about his superiority as a mate. Almost immediately he was standing behind her, penetrating her as deeply as their bodies could physically allow, one hand pulling her hips against him and the other in the middle of her back holding her down against the mattress. She bit into the comforter to keep herself from screaming out loudly enough that it would surely wake any other guests in the building. There was no question about it. There was no better match for her than him.

She moaned out loudly as an orgasm rippled through her. Bass groaned his appreciation of the extra friction her spasms provided, but still kept slamming into her. Being thoroughly worked all the way through her climax, she went limp once it passed. Every part of her felt overly sensitized for the moment. Though she didn't want him to stop pounding against her, they needed to, at least temporarily. As if sensing exactly what she needed from the minute changes in her body, he slowed and then altogether stopped thrusting into her. He pulled out and leaned down to place kisses along her spine.

"Get on the bed." It was more of a suggestion than a command, and she appreciated his choice of tone.

She lifted herself up and crawled forward onto the bed. Before she could collapse and roll onto her back, he'd followed her on the bed and clasped his hands around her waist. He nudged her knees apart where she was kneeling in front of him, facing the headboard. When he began rubbing his hands up and down her back, she knew what position he wanted her in, and she leaned forward to comply. Apparently this round was going to work through all the possible variations on taking her from behind. Resting on her knees and forearms, he mounted her and slowly rocked himself inside. While she did find the position a little less dignified, it did always leave him hitting all the best spots, so she couldn't really bring herself to care. He began flicking and grinding his hips against her, and she realized that the change in position that he'd instituted had taken just enough time for her sensory overload to subside. After all this time he could still surprise her the way he seemed to know her body as well as, if not better than, she did.

It wasn't long before he was having to do most of the work holding her in the prone position, as her muscles were about to give out approaching another release. Sensing that he wasn't that far off himself, he relaxed his hold on her and they both sank to the bed. He had one hand beneath her, letting her grind against it to produce the friction that would get her off in moments. The other hand he slid up along her arm and entwined his fingers with hers where they rested under her head. He kissed along the ridge of her shoulder, the gentle sucking reflexively turning into a soft bite as she came and her muscles tightened around him. It was enough to do him in as well, and he poured into her again, mewling as each of her contractions pushed him further over the edge. He collapsed on top of her when he had finished. Then he quickly pulled her with him onto their sides so he wouldn't crush her into the mattress with his weight. He stayed spooned up against her back and buried inside her.

After a few minutes of panting and slowly returning to full consciousness, he mumbled into her hair as he buried his face in the back of her neck. "Could stay inside you forever."

"Sounds good to me." She yawned with a smile.

Completely content, he kissed her neck just behind her ear before letting his head rest on the pillow.

Spent, he'd gone limp. Their position allowed only his softened head to remain barely within her. Their connection was tenuous, but both seemed rather committed maintaining their physical coupling as their tired bodies pulled them toward sleep.

…

She woke to the feeling of him gently rocking inside her. He was clinging to her, hands pulling her tightly against him where they had anchored over her breast and her pubic bone. And he was making these desperate little gasping sounds with each thrust of his hips. She had turned her head to look at his face while she teased him about starting without her, when she realized that his eyes were still closed and that relaxed softness in the muscles of his cheeks that only happened when he slept was still present.

He was still asleep. Apparently his body had stirred and set to task without bothering to wake him. And he wasn't just fucking her in his sleep. His hands were kneading at her breast and rubbing over her clitoris in time with his movements. Even unconscious he was still the most attentive lover she'd ever had.

She turned her neck as much as she could and kissed his nose, it was the only thing she could reach, as she gently rubbed her hand along his forearm. "Hey Bass, if you don't wake up you're gonna miss all the fun."

She could tell when he woke, because his thrusting stilled and his body stiffened.

"Wha…" His brain seemed to be a little slow in gaining momentum as consciousness returned to him. Then suddenly he seemed to register what had been happening and, sounding slightly abashed, he asked, "Did I fall asleep while we were…"

She laughed. "No. That _started_ while you were still asleep. I just figured you'd want to be awake for the finish."

He chuckled and started moving within her again, his movements now a little more purposeful and that adorable gasping noise he'd been making having been silenced.

"And I thought it was all just a really good dream." He kissed the delicate skin behind her ear.

She reached down between her legs and trailed fingers along the base of his shaft before cupping and kneading his balls. "So what were we doing in this really good dream?"

"Jesus, Charlotte." He groaned blasphemously at her touch, her inquiry all but forgotten.

When he didn't answer her, she teased, "I mean, it was _us_, right?"

He instantly stilled and propped himself up on his right elbow so that he was looking down at her over her shoulder. He gave her an inquisitive grin. "You seem to have no idea what an absurd question that is, so I'm gonna remind you of something I already told you. It's. Always. Been. You."

She gave a little apologetic smile and he plopped back down behind her. He resumed moving inside her and let his hands return to teasing her nipples and digging fingertips into her hip. Then he lifted his head so that he was whispering directly into her ear. "After your little stunt in Philly, I spent half that night jerking off to the thought of you naked and yielding beneath me, hearing the surrender in your voice when you cried out my name as I made you come around me." He accentuated the confession by pinching the nipple that was between his fingers and working it roughly until she moaned and bucked against him.

"You do realize how messed up that is, right?" She panted, her tone teasing.

"Tell me it doesn't get you just the littlest bit hot to know you brought the most powerful man in the world to his knees." He purred into her ear before raking the earlobe through his teeth.

"The most powerful man in the world? You're gonna have to explain that one, because so far I've only heard you talking about you." She turned her head so he could see her huge grin and then gave him a peck of a kiss on his lips.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Clearly I've given up on the fantasy of being able to fuck you into submission."

"Damn right." Her triumphant smile was evident in her voice.

He rolled his eyes at her again. "And while I'm suddenly feeling like letting you squirm in your misplaced insecurities for the rest of the night, I'll be honest with you anyway. The fantasy may have adapted over the past year and a half, but I honestly can't remember the last time I had a wet dream that wasn't about you. Tonight's was an instant replay of what we were doing before we fell asleep."

Content with his answer, she settled more fully back against his chest and ground down on his erection a little bit harder as he surged as far into her as their positioning would allow.

"How long was I going at this before you woke me?" He nuzzled her neck and moved his left hand to start rubbing against her clit.

He didn't need to finish the thought. She could tell by the tension in his muscles and the timbre of his voice that he was closing in on yet another orgasm. "You had a pretty good head start." Was her answer as he pounded his hips against her back side. The gratuitous slapping noise of their sweaty bodies colliding over and over in quick succession was certainly rousing her, but she was still well behind him in the race to reach climax.

"I can try to hold on." He groaned.

"Just go ahead. I have no doubt you'll make it up to me." She entwined her fingers with his that had been vigorously working at stimulating her.

He kissed her shoulder and shifted behind her. She almost whimpered when she felt him pull out of her, but then he was rolling her onto her back and was crouching between her thighs. He slid back into her impatiently as he grabbed her hips and muttered, "Needed to be in you deeper."

She wrapped her legs around his waist as he plowed into her with an impressive amount of force. She wondered if either of them would be able to walk in the morning. In under a minute he was gasping and heaving as he emptied himself in her yet again. He collapsed forward on top of her and claimed her lips. She kissed him back until he pulled back to catch his breath.

"Sorry." He murmured as he laid his head on the pillow next to hers.

She laughed at him and stroked his back. "We can't _always_ get off together."

"Give me a minute and I'll get back to work." He smiled.

"It's not like we're keeping score." She rolled her eyes at him.

"Maybe _you're_ not." He quirked an eyebrow at her. Then he shifted to evacuate his half-limp dick from her and quickly replace it with a pair of fingers that began to gently pump into and out of her.

"Well I'm certainly not going to stop you." She skimmed her hand down along his arm and slipped one of her own fingers into herself along with his. "But if you're too tired, I could take care of it and you could just sit back and watch."

That first night in Willoughby had been the only time he'd ever seen her touching herself, and he'd had a very limited view of the show. She wasn't surprised that the idea had him suddenly back up and sitting between her thighs.

"You just tell me if there's anything I can do to help." He subconsciously licked his lips as he removed his fingers from her wetness and traced the hand down the inside of her thigh, leaving a streak of their combined fluids in its wake. He had a hand on each knee holding them apart to ensure that he had the best possible view as she slid a second and then a third finger in with the first.

Charlie worked her fingers inside herself, gliding and digging against the familiar spots that she knew would bring her release. There was so much fluid seeping around them from her own arousal and the three bouts of ejaculate he'd pumped into her that it was almost difficult to get the necessary friction. She writhed and tried to squeeze her legs shut as the sensations started a quickening feeling in her belly, but he held her wide open in front of him. Bass was groaning nearly as loudly as she was by the time she slid her left hand down to rub her clit. She lifted her head from the pillow to steal a look at her audience. He was leaning his coarsely stubbled cheek against the inside of her left knee, and he was watching her as if the world around him could have exploded and he wouldn't have given a single fuck. His hand that had been on her other knee had slowly traced about halfway up her thigh and his right hand was jerking futilely at his flaccid cock, attempting to will it back to life. He looked as if he didn't find something to do with himself soon, he might combust.

She had a steady tempo and she knew she was not far from toppling into what was sure to be a powerful release, but she couldn't stand watching him desperately watching her for another second. "Touch me, Bass."

The words had barely left her lips before his mouth was on her. His tongue dove in amongst her fingers and his hand replaced hers where she'd been teasing the engorged nerve cluster above his mouth. She slowly removed her fingers and let him take over the ministrations completely. She slid the displaced fingers into his hair and grabbed the curly locks by their roots as he licked deep up inside her. She'd smeared the fluid that had been coating her fingers through his hair, and found that the more debauched he looked working between her thighs, the closer it got her to clamping down hard around that tongue.

Knowing that she was watching him, he pulled his mouth back ever so slightly and murmured nearly incoherently, his breath tingling against her hot damp folds, "I can taste myself inside you."

That sent her thrusting herself back against his mouth. Surely that thought would have been quite unpalatable to some men, but not Bass. He might not be the megalomaniacal egomaniac she'd originally pegged him for, but the man did take great pride in his conquests.

After that it was mere seconds before she was coming hard against his mouth and bucking up into the hand rubbing her off. Just as she was riding through what had to be one of the last waves of the longest orgasm of her life, he thrust two fingers into her alongside his tongue that she was crushed down on. The penetration and the fact that his fingertips went right for her most sensitive spots restarted the whole cascade of contractions over again. She registered the sound of loud pleasured wailings for a long moment before realizing that they were coming from her.

She was gasping and panting flat on her back with her hands fisted in his hair and the bed sheets when she finally came down. He extracted his tongue from her and placed a gentle kiss there before slowly removing his fingers as well. Then he wiped his mouth on a corner of the comforter and crawled up the bed to lay on his side next to her. She let her hand trail out of his hair and down the side of his face to cup his cheek. Then she turned and kissed him. When they pulled apart she asked, "So how many points was that?"

"Hmm?" He answered groggily.

"I thought you were keeping score."

"I lost count."

She smiled and rolled towards him. Their arms quickly wound around each other and she nestled her head against his chest. He pulled the blankets back up over them, and they were both asleep within minutes.


End file.
